


Any More Questions, Dear?

by deadOnOffbeat



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BDSM, Bratting, But they don't actually have sex, Caning, F/F, Light Angst, Masochism, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Tissaia a power bottom, Well I don't think I can call it "light" anymore, Yennefer is a Pro-Domme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25982203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadOnOffbeat/pseuds/deadOnOffbeat
Summary: Yennefer had never seen someone so annoyed with her dominance while choosing to kneel in front of her.
Relationships: Margarita Laux-Antille/Tissaia de Vries, Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 83
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I vowed I would not upload unfinished works, but this will probably be a multi-chaptered fic, even though I haven't written anything for a second chapter so far. Oh well.   
> All the love may go to my beta, Sadsnail, the mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy this self-indulgent piece of fiction!

She exited the car and tightened her coat around her waist, trying to stay warm in the cold winter air. A feeling of excitement kept her smiling on her way up the driveway. House calls were rare in general and even rarer with the client being a woman. The thought filled her with nerves, even though all she knew about Tissaia was her name, her address, her basic likes and limits, and that she didn’t want anything sexual to happen. That last part was a pity because it wasn’t often that she got to play with women as opposed to old, grey-haired men with beer paunches and too much money on their hands. 

Tissaia de Vries wasn’t a name Yennefer had heard before and because she tried moderately hard to stay up to date with the news, she was quite sure her client wasn’t a publicly known person. The house she was walking towards wasn’t very big either. It was nice, the neighbourhood clearly not cheap, but it didn’t compete with the mansions she was used to visiting. While she wasn’t the most expensive Pro-Domme out there, good service still had a price and that price was high enough that only few could pay it. They were managers, CEOs, important politicians. Maybe her client today had to actually save up for the occasion. 

The sound of the doorbell was so loud that it startled Yennefer even though she triggered it herself. She quickly brushed her fingers through her hair, using the dark window panel as a mirror before the lights in the hallway illuminated it. The door opened, giving way to a rather short, but surprisingly intimidating-looking woman with beautiful features and prominent cheekbones. Her makeup was unobtrusive, she wore fine clothes and carried herself with poise.

“Good evening, Tissaia.” She smiled her friendliest smile to make a good first impression and held out her hand for Tissaia to shake, but the invitation stayed ignored as the other woman stepped back, allowing Yennefer to enter. 

“After me, please. Leave your coat on the hanger,” her client’s smooth but strict voice all but commanded as she was already turning to walk away. 

Caught off-guard, Yennefer hesitated a moment too long and had to scramble behind to catch up with her client’s fierce steps. The almost imperative tone had surprised her. She was used to clients being either nervous and enthusiastic, or subservient, already starting to roleplay. She wasn’t used to her presence being conveniently ignored. 

Shrugging off her coat once inside, she revealed a tight-fitting black shirt and leather trousers underneath. A casual way of dressing, like Tissaia had requested in her form. Well, she had worded it as ‘classy clothing, no latex, not sexually suggestive, no run-of-the-mill Dominatrix costume.’ Yennefer had taken this order as a sign the woman was uncomfortable with kink, maybe inexperienced. Now, though, she figured it might have had a different reason. Tissaia didn’t seem to be nervous at all. In fact, she seemed less nervous than Yennefer felt as she entered the living room. She looked around, taking in the space for both professional assessment and personal curiosity. The room looked empty, lacking almost all personal items. With white and grey dominating the décor, the term ‘unhomely’ came to mind. Yennefer felt uncomfortable in the almost sterile surroundings.

She sat down on one side of the wooden table, and it was kind of sad that it served as the only accent of colour in the room. It was birch as well, the most colourless wood Yennefer could think of. Tissaia sat down on the other side, and finally, took her in.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yennefer.” Strict eyes scrutinized her in a way that felt almost uncomfortable. “Although I had hoped you would read my forms more carefully.”

Before she could ask what she had done wrong, Tissaia resumed talking.

“When I said I didn’t want latex or the typical Dominatrix look, I assumed knee-high latex boots would be out of the question.”

“They are not made of latex,” Yennefer insisted at once before she could contemplate the issue. “... I think.”

They were also boots she wore privately, outside of sessions, but she didn’t dare say that.

A deep sigh made her look up from under the table. “I believe they are.”

“Well, I can always take them off so you can worship my feet,” she replied and wriggled her eyebrows, trying to sound neither uncertain nor offended.

To her surprise, a hint of a smile flickered across the other woman’s face. “That sounds like a suitable solution.”

Tissaia de Vries was even more beautiful when she smiled. Frankly, she was stunning, and when she brushed errant hairs that had slipped from her strict updo behind her ear, Yennefer noticed she wasn’t wearing a ring. That was odd. Her client must be in her forties and most people in their forties were married, right?

She snapped out of her thoughts when Tissaia set down two glasses of red wine. “Oh, actually, I prefer not to drink on the job.” She pushed the glass aside. “And I’d rather you didn’t, either.”

Tissaia cocked her head curiously, a frown indicating she was contemplating the request, and after a moment of consideration, she slid her glass to the side as well, wordlessly agreeing to Yennefer’s condition. “Now that we have that out of the way, I’d prefer to finally start negotiating the details of what is going to happen tonight. I’m paying for every second we pass dawdling.” 

The business-like tone made the young Pro-Domme quirk an eyebrow in surprise. “Actually, you paid for the night, no matter how long we take.”

The older woman straightened the cuffs of her blouse, thoroughly unimpressed as she sighed like she was talking to an insolent teenager. Yennefer sucked her cheeks in to keep herself from commenting. She  _ was _ providing a service here, after all. Still, she honestly couldn’t wait to let her annoyance translate into the session. Maybe if she spanked Tissaia’s ass raw, she would get an apology for the insolent behaviour the woman was displaying now. 

“As your pimp might have told you, I’m not looking for sex.”

Yennefer cringed at the choice of words. She didn’t have a ‘pimp’, she had a boss. A manager, so-to-say. Philippa hooked her up with clients and got 15% of her gross income in exchange. It was all legal, thank you very much. She even paid taxes. 

“I’m aware,” she replied with a forced smile. 

“That means I also prefer keeping my underwear. Don’t spit on my face, don’t slap me, I can’t kneel for longer periods of time, did I forget something?” Her forehead crinkled as she pondered her question.

“No marks visible in everyday-clothing, no extensive choking, but a hand on your throat is fine, no extensive nipple play because you’re sensitive and fancy bondage is out of the question because you’re old and fragile.”

“I doubt I formulated it like that,” Tissaia remarked with a little frown and while it sounded almost like a quip, Yennefer wasn’t sure the other woman was even capable of humour. So far, she had acted pretty stuck-up and it was rather odd now that she thought about it, considering what they were about to do. 

Folding her hands on the table, Tissaia looked at her expectantly. “So, any more questions, dear?”

Again, very odd. Normally, Yennefer was the one who asked that question. 

“Uhm,” she started, thinking. “Does no sex include no vibrators over your knickers? What about masturbation?”

Tissaia seemed to seriously contemplate the question. “No and maybe.”

Maybe. Yennefer couldn’t help a smirk forming on her lips. The idea of the alluring, but rigid woman in front of her touching herself while she was watching? More than hot. “Any experiences with BDSM?”

“Yes,” Tissaia replied, tone clipped. “More than you, I’d wager.”

Oh, she couldn’t wait to spank her arse raw, she truly couldn’t wait even a second longer or she would explode. “Alright, then I’d suggest we start before your fear of wasting any more time turns into paranoia and you start to believe I’m trying to scam you out of your money.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tissaia’s mouth, and she folded her hands again, looking up expectantly as Yennefer stood up from her chair. 

“Remove your blouse.”

For a moment, it looked as if Tissaia was considering to defy her, but then, she started opening the buttons of her blouse one by one, maintaining eye contact the entire time as she revealed a dark red bra underneath. It was unexpectedly sensual and erotic and it made Yennefer’s mouth dry instantly. Tissaia’s lip curled up into a knowing smirk.

Yennefer wetted her lips and focussed her gaze forcefully on the slowly revealing body, determined to make her passion seem dominant as opposed to desperate. She wouldn’t be easy to throw just because her client was a beautiful woman. She was better than that.

“Your skirt now,” Yennefer instructed, trying not to let on how aroused she felt. “I will let you strip down to your underwear and tie your hands. Do you prefer me to be strict or lenient with you for the first session?”

Tissaia stood up and removed her skirt without hesitation, unbothered by the fact she was undressing in front of a stranger. Not that there was anything to be uncomfortable about. Tissaia was ravishing. As in, too beautiful to be real. As in, dear Gods, that woman was going to be the end of her. “I’m paying a lot of money for this well-deserved stress relief, Yennefer. I don’t want you to go easy on me. I don’t have time for that.”

_ Always the businesswoman _ .

“And you like pain?” Yennefer asked in the same business-like tone while she started rummaging in her travel bag. It had said so on the form her clients filled out before a session, but she always made sure to question whatever seemed too vague to work with. Liking pain could mean anything, and it relied heavily on subjective experiences and perception. 

She turned around to retrieve the leather cuffs from her bag. They were her favourite set, soft and supple on the skin. Hopefully, the other woman would appreciate them.

“Yes.” Her breathing was quickening ever so slightly as Yennefer closed the leather cuffs around her wrists and fastened them behind her back.

“What kind?”

The perfume Tissaia wore smelled exquisite, and Yennefer was by far not knowledgeable about different types of scents, but it was flowery rather than sweet, with a hint of something darker. She inhaled it discreetly as she checked the locks on the cuffs once more. Tissaia tested them as soon as she let go, pulling and pushing, then relaxing again, satisfied they wouldn’t open.

“All kinds.” The smug smile on the older woman’s lips was about as attractive as her scent. 

“Are those fine?” Yennefer motioned in the vague direction of the cuffs. 

“Very.”

“Any wishes for tonight, whore?”

Tissaia chuckled once. “No dirty talk. And cane me.”

Yennefer raised her eyebrows as an answer to both the rebuff and the request. “Cane you?” she repeated to gather some more information. 

“Yes, is that an issue?” 

The expression on her face was honest, but Yennefer could have laughed. Of course it wasn’t an issue. “It’s just an unusual choice right off the bat.”

“Your pimp assured me you know your trade. You have caned someone before, right?”

Yennefer, who had started rummaging in her things again, whipped her head around at the question, only to see Tissaia’s eyes twinkle with amusement at her jibe.

Before she could say that yes, she had caned someone before, and not once or twice, but multiple days a week for more than two years now, the older woman spoke again, stripping her off the opportunity to reply. It was irritating. Tissaia was irritating.

“You’re very young, aren’t you? Paying your way through college with this?”

Part of Yennefer didn’t even want to answer. She could easily shove Tissaia into the next wall now, telling her off for trying to do small talk and starting the scene. She found herself talking nonetheless. It might be the authority the older woman still carried, the one she would have to strip from her within the next few hours. “I’m not studying yet, I’m starting next semester.”

“Where?” The answer seemed to have piqued Tissaia’s interest.

“Aretuza University.”

Tissaia’s smile widened, but it was an odd kind of smile, neither happy nor amused. “Is that so? What’s your major?” The question seemed to carry a strange amount of weight. Yennefer frowned.

“Psychology.”

A breathy laugh of resignation escaped her client’s mouth. “That’s entirely inappropriate.”

“What?”

“Let me introduce myself to you, Yennefer. I’m Tissaia de Vries, head of the psychology department of Aretuza University. I would give you my hand under different circumstances.”

Yennefer couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud. “No fucking way.”

“Language.”

“Language yourself,” Yennefer rebutted because she wasn’t going to get corrected by her submissive for the night. “I can’t fucking believe this. What is the chance?”

Tissaia slowly let herself sink into the chair Yennefer had sat on earlier. She looked conflicted and unwittingly tried to hide her half-naked body with her arms, which proved to be severely ineffective in handcuffs. She gave up and sighed instead.

Quickly, Yennefer walked over to her and squatted down, gently laying her hands on cool thighs to balance herself. The skin there was supple and smooth, well cared for, albeit slightly malleable due to age. Yennefer could touch it all day, and she would be allowed to if she got Tissaia to agree to this. Shit, she  _ needed _ her to agree to this.

“Look. I signed an NDA, as is protocol with every client I take on. I’m not some common street whore, and my pimp, as you called her, is the owner of a very prestigious établissement that doesn’t need any negative press. I will not talk about this. I will not mention it in case we meet on campus.”

“I teach the introductory courses.” She sounded more defeated than before; like she was about to call it quits.

“Hey, this may be odd for you, but I dominated so many people I see on the news every day. I’ve met clients in grocery stores with their wives and kids. It’s no big deal!”

Tissaia took a deep breath, averting her eyes, seemingly not convinced. “I don’t know if I want to continue this under those circumstances.”

“I understand,” Yennefer replied carefully, brushing her thumbs over the thighs in front of her. There were goosebumps now, maybe from the coolness of the room, maybe from her touch. She dearly hoped for the latter. “However, I feel like you’re in need of the kind of relaxation I can provide to you. I can pay back your money, excluding the 15% my pimp gets for each match she makes me.”

“I’m sorry I called her your pimp.” 

Yennefer laughed softly at the unexpected apology. “What I’m trying to say is, I may be able to pay back most of your money, but I cannot grant you the catharsis you surely looked forward to without you letting me do this. I’m good at this, I promise. And a professional.”

Tissaia snorted at that, but it was hard to be mad about it because the sound was utterly adorable coming from her. 

There was a moment of silence on Tissaia’s part and Yennefer tried to remain patient, although she was getting more nervous by the second. If her client refused to play, she would be short on rent. She might have spent too much money shopping last week, but in her defence, she never expected a house call to be canceled. 

It took a few seconds until Tissaia came to a decision. Without further indication, she leaned in and pressed her lips on Yennefer’s, who froze for a moment in surprise, before grabbing Tissaia’s throat and pushing her away. 

“Who allowed you to do that?” Her voice was dark and foreboding and Tissaia’s eyes lit up, betraying that this was the reaction she had tried to provoke, and it was truly remarkable, if not a bit bold, to just start a session like that.

“So far, there were no rules against it,” Tissaia pointed out in a no-nonsense fashion, the playful smile on her face indicating she knew very well how this game was played. 

“I see,” Yennefer replied, hand coming up to get a hold of Tissaia’s chin. She got a thrill out of watching her client’s eyebrows crease in discomfort at the forceful hold. “You’re a difficult one, aren’t you?”

A glare was the only answer she got. Tissaia wasn’t going to reply, Yennefer realised, because, with the hand restricting her jaw movement, anything she said would come out mumbled and unclear. That was interesting because if she didn’t want to seem less than perfect, Yennefer could definitely work with that. 

“I believe I know what makes you act like a little brat.”

She let go of her chin and unsurprisingly, Tissaia deigned her with a response this time. “That so?” 

It sounded affected, breathless, exhilarated. Yennefer smirked. “You asked for the cane right off the bat, talking about how you need to destress and don’t want me to be lenient on you. You, Professor, want to be punished oh-so severely.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No?” Yennefer raised her eyebrows. “Because if I’m not allowed to call you my little whore or slut, there are not many other options left.”

The huff that followed was a sound so deliberate, it could have very well been an agreement to everything Yennefer had said. Tissaia wanted to give her incentive, to rile her up and get her annoyed enough to really dish it out. 

So, naturally, Yennefer only smiled. It caught the older woman off-guard, made her obviously nervous. A beautiful expression that suited her face extraordinarily well.

“Down on your knees, Professor. Face me.”

There was a hint of reluctance, but ultimately, Tissaia complied, elegantly sinking down in a way that only came with years of experience. It clicked into place with everything Yennefer found out so far. She wanted to look perfect. 

“Beg me.”

“Excuse me?” Tissaia looked up at once, eyebrows raised as if she couldn’t believe what she was asked to do. 

“Beg me to punish you.” Yennefer had never seen someone so annoyed with her dominance while choosing to kneel in front of her. She sat down on the nearest chair to get closer to eye level with Tissaia, but also to look extremely casual at the same time. “You know, I have this very soft suede flogger if you’d rather have that.”

The corner of her client’s eye was twitching with irritation now. “I believe I made myself clear about what I want.”

“Oh, you have, but now I’m not sure that you really meant it anymore, Professor.”

“Call me that one more time and believe me if I say I will safeword out of this and send you out without your money.”

Yennefer laughed at her. It was the only sensible thing to do. “Funny that you think you’re in a position to make threats.”

“You’re providing me a service. Don’t be so full of yourself, Yennefer.”

“Don’t reprimand me for providing the service you asked for, _ Professor _ .”

Tissaia inhaled sharply, but as expected, she didn’t stand up, didn’t safeword, didn’t do anything for that matter. 

“Told you so,” Yennefer remarked smugly. “You would never send me out of here. Do you know why?”

“Why.” It wasn’t even a question. Tissaia sounded like an annoyed mother of a talkative toddler.

“Two reasons.” Yennefer held out her forefinger, deciding not to let herself be bothered by her client’s insolence. “Firstly, you’re too proud to use a safeword for something so minor.” A second finger joined the first one. “Secondly, you are extremely needy. You crave this with every fibre of your being. Otherwise, why would a woman like you need to hire a professional for the job?”

“It’s safer to hire someone,” Tissaia pointed out in a no-nonsense way that sounded suspiciously like her teacher-voice, but she also didn’t deny the truth of the statement.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Tissaia didn’t respond, but her eyes were fierce as she stared Yennefer down, which was an endeavour in itself when kneeling half-naked in front of a fully-clothed stranger, and Yennefer had to admire her guts. 

“That’s what I thought. Now that we have that out of the way, beg me.”

Jaw tight, eyes unmoving, Tissaia finally relented. “Please punish me.”

“How convincing.”

The fierce fury in her eyes gave Yennefer a kick she couldn’t describe. The energy flow felt so natural already. 

“I’ll beg if you take off those hideous shoes.”

A sudden hand twisting in her hair made the older woman hiss out in discomfort. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Yennefer inquired, giving the hair a tug for good measure.

“I said,” Tissaia gritted through her teeth. “I won’t beg until you lose the boots.”

She pushed Tissaia down so that her face was pressed against the material of her shoes. 

“These?”

“Yes,” Tissaia gritted out, angry as she tried to pull away, but the more she pulled, the more the hand in her hair twisted, so eventually, she gave up. “You’re ruining my updo.”

“Oh, am I? How clumsy and totally unintentional of me.”

The quip made Tissaia start struggling again, eyes shut tightly in an expression of pain.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Yennefer asked with a smile because the woman could struggle all she wanted — there was no way she’d be able to get out without ripping out a good portion of her hair. They both knew she wouldn’t go that far. 

“No,” Tissaia admitted, still pulling. “But I’m trying to get the pain I asked for.”

At once, Yennefer let go and Tissaia laughed breathily, a playful twinkle in her eyes giving away that this had been her plan. Yennefer’s face hardened at the realisation that she’d been played. “You want pain? Pain is what you get.”

She stood up, pulling Tissaia with her roughly. “I didn’t take you for such a brat.”

They were close to one another now, close enough that she could make out the little specks of golden brown in the blue and green eyes.

“I’m not when someone actually gets to me.”

“Remove your bra,” Yennefer commanded brusquely, not taking the bait because it would be exactly what Tissaia was trying to achieve. She wasn’t refusing to undress though, despite the bratty attitude. That was a good sign and — again — spoke volumes about her experience as a submissive. She was walking the fine line between riling someone up, but not being too uncooperative as to ruin the flow. 

In record time, the bra was dangling on the chain between the handcuffs and for the sake of the energy flow, Yennefer considered just leaving it there, but it really bothered her sense of aesthetics. With a few quick steps, she moved behind her client, unhooked the chain to let the bra fall onto the floor, and hooked it back in place.

Tissaia grinned at her mischievously as soon as she was back in sight, silently commenting on the awkward bra removal. Yennefer glared at her, but it only made her smile widen. She grabbed Tissaia’s nipples roughly in admonishment, letting her irritation show as she twisted them hard, gauging the reaction the attack got her — which was, quite frankly, disappointing. Only a small tensing of shoulders indicated her playmate was experiencing pain at all. She pulled more roughly and an expression of pain graced Tissaia’s face, but it went as quickly as it came. Truly a tough one. And stubborn, too.

“This not enough for you?”

“Not by far,” Tissaia replied with a smile, despite the pain she found herself in.

“In that case, I believe you asked for a caning, didn’t you?”

What Yennefer was planning now was rather risky. She needed to tread with caution if she didn’t want to come across as ignorant of her client’s limits. 

Tissaia eyed her with a hint of a smile as she retrieved a short, but thin and willowy cane from her bag. 

“Would this one be to your liking?”

“Yes,” the older woman breathed. She looked breathtaking now, her face and cleavage flushed from exertion, hair half down, naked save for a thin piece of wine red fabric covering her private parts. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her brows furrowed in annoyance at being asked again. 

“If you’d be so kind then as to get into position — ah! Don’t turn around. Just spread your legs and steady yourself.”

Tissaia’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but she remained still, only widening her stance to keep her balance. 

“What’s your safeword?” Yennefer asked, just to make sure her client remembered. Not that Tissaia seemed to be the kind of person to forget anything easily.

“Red, or stop, but you prefer red.” She rolled her eyes as if it was ridiculous that she had been requested to write in another safeword instead of stop. Upon looking at her client now, it was rather unthinkable Tissaia would say stop unless she meant it, but better safe than sorry.

She aligned the cane with Tissaia’s nipples, which made the woman shift from her stance momentarily. 

“What’s the matter?” Yennefer asked sickly sweet. “Don’t you like where this is going?”

Tissaia, it seemed, didn’t dare answer and when the cane was pulled back as to take a swing, an expression of panic adorned her face, clear, unadulterated panic. It suited her well. When the impact didn’t come, she let out a shaky breath.

“Did you want to say something?”

Tissaia shook her head, but her eyes never left the cane as if she was scared it would suddenly come to life and hit her in an unsuspecting moment. Yennefer wouldn’t be that cruel, though. Not before she knew just how serious the “not too much nipple torture” rule should be taken.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No,” Tissaia croaked out just to prove her wrong. 

Her stubbornness, impressive as it might be, was also a great weakness that could be easily used against her.

“I don’t know, I feel like something’s bothering you,” the Domme pushed on, hovering the cane in front of Tissaia’s nipples again. “And a psychology professor like you surely knows how important communication is.”

“I told you I didn’t like extensive nipple play.”

“Yes, and you also told me you wanted a nice caning but now you refuse to beg for it, so I really, really don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Tissaia huffed and Yennefer pulled the cane back in warning, enjoying her client flinching.

“Do you want to safeword?”

Tissaia looked at her like asking this was a personal affront. “I will safeword when I see fit.”

A chuckle she couldn’t help coming from her throat emerged at the bold remark. “Okay then.”

She lifted the cane and brought it down, misjudging the angle and not quite meeting the target. The impact wasn’t hard either because she didn’t know how much of Tissaia’s behaviour was for show and how much she could actually take. Yennefer didn’t want this to end prematurely. When Tissaia had the nerve to grin though, Yennefer felt rage bubbling up in her chest. She regretted being cautious. She didn't want Tissaia to think she could get away with anything. "I don't think it's wise for you to laugh right now."

"I suggest it would be wise for you to do some target practice."

"You might be right. May I use you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she brought down the cane again, and this time, she hit the mark with no problem at all. Tissaia's entire body staggered forward and if her hands hadn't been tied, she'd have surely tried to cover her breasts. Yennefer watched her curiously as she stubbornly willed the pain away; with her eyes shut tightly and her breath adamantly held. It took a while until her eyes opened again. There was an odd look in them as she stared ahead, something Yennefer couldn't pinpoint before she relaxed again and looked up as if to see why she hadn’t been hit again yet.

"My, a stubborn one indeed," Yennefer murmured. "I wonder what it takes to make you scream."

"A lot more than that." The haughty quality to her voice made Yennefer's lips quirk up in amusement. 

"How many more of those can you take?"

"Five." The answer came without hesitation.

"Alright, ten it is."

A surprised laugh escaped the bound woman's throat. Yennefer observed her for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. 

"Actually," she began while moving closer to unclip the chain that tied the handcuffs together. "Let's make it a game, shall we?"

"A game?" Tissaia inquired as she moved her now free hands to her sides, rolling her shoulders to get rid of the tension from the awkward angle they’d been in before. 

"Yeah. I release your arms for now. And if they even so much as quirk into the direction of your breasts to cover them from my cane, we'll double the number of hits."

Tissaia rib cage forcefully moved up and down like she was suddenly out of air. 

"Do you think you can manage that?"

"No." The vague pleading in her voice made Yennefer lift her gaze. 

"No?"

"I don't think I can. And I don't think I can take twenty."

The sudden change of demeanour made Yennefer willing to change her conditions. She had to admit that twenty was a high bet, especially after agreeing on minimal nipple torture.

"Then let's make a deal."

The little frown on her face was adorable. "What kind?"

"Oh, you'll love it."

The unconvinced look following the assurance only made Yennefer smile wider as she inched closer. She was towering over her client in her heels and tipped Tissaia’s chin up. Blue eyes fluttered shut at the soft touch.

"We'll stick to five, but once you move your arms, your head, even your little toe, it'll be ten before you can blink. To show your gratitude for my mercy, you will not close your eyes. You will look at me for every hit."

Tissaia nodded her understanding, in a way that seemed a bit too business-like for someone who was about to get their nipples caned, but it assured Yennefer that this was a valid compromise. 

“Alright then. Be good.”

She somehow expected Tissaia to roll her eyes at this, but miraculously, she only nodded, maybe too concentrated on adjusting her stance to be bratty. 

For the first two hits, Yennefer was impressed by her stoicism, until she noticed just how cramped her client’s hands were. Tissaia’s nails were buried in her thighs as if she was scared she would move if she relaxed them even a little bit. She also looked right through Yennefer taking strength from somewhere out of view. When the third blow didn’t come as quickly as expected, her eyes flitted over to her tormentor, wordlessly urging her to continue, but Yennefer planned on stretching the moment if she had to refrain from more than five. She prepared the next hit, giving Tissaia the chance to brace herself. 

She flinched when it landed.

“God, this is awful,” she complained, her voice strained, but still too much in control for Yennefer’s liking. 

“Who allowed you to speak?”

“No one forbade me to.”

The next hit was a warning and it caught Tissaia by surprise, making her gasp. The annoyed groan that escaped her afterwards proved she had tried to take it without any noise. Yennefer smirked. 

“Ready for the last one?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tissaia cringed as soon as the words left her mouth, and it was hard not to burst out laughing. 

“Oh, have I earned a title now?” Yennefer teased as a flush crept on Tissaia’s cheeks. 

“Seems like you did.” 

The last hit landed and at once, a protecting hand flew up. Yennefer took a step back in surprise, eyeing the woman in front of her with suspicion. “I thought it was awful.”

“Sorry.” Tissaia chuckled lightly.

“Unbelievable.” She walked closer and grabbed Tissaia’s chin. “And here I thought you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“So why purposely move?”

“I don’t know.”

Yennefer searched her eyes for any sign of lying or bratting, but all she could see were tears glistening in her client’s eyes. They took her by surprise and she had to resist the urge to wipe them away, somehow feeling that the gesture would not be appreciated.

“Seems like someone’s losing control over their own body. Tell me: What have you done that makes you feel like you have to suffer so much?”

Tissaia shook her head and averted her eyes, so Yennefer tightened the grip on her chin to make her look at her. 

“It’s nothing like that.” It was meant to sound appeasing, for some reason. Maybe Tissaia feared Yennefer would see her as unsafe to play with if she did it to punish herself. “I just… I think I just really enjoy the energy. And maybe it’s been a long time since someone actually challenged me.”

“Good answer.” Yennefer tried hard not to beam at the compliment because that would be a silly thing for a Domme to do. Instead, she kissed her once, ignoring the pull in her guts she felt as Tissaia tried to follow her lips when they parted. She leaned close to her client’s ear to speak. “Then brace yourself for the next round.”

Stepping away, she quickly flicked the cane before Tissaia had a chance to breathe through. Right now, she felt cruel like that. It was clear Tissaia wouldn’t be one to easily give up and if she wanted a challenge, she would get one. Two hits and the woman was hissing, convulsing, but in her defence, not trying to cover her nipples. She was also very desperately trying not to blink and Yennefer remembered the tears she saw in her eyes. Two more hits followed, leaving her panting. Yennefer gave her a few seconds then to regain her breath. There were still no tears, which was, again, impressive, given the fact she had been close to crying even before the impact. After the last hit, Tissaia’s posture slackened. She relaxed at once, allowing her body to follow the instinct of turning away and covering her nipples. Yennefer could see that her balance was off.

“Kneel.” 

Tissaia did so gratefully. She was still graceful as she knelt, her head bowed, legs spread. Yennefer crouched before her, using her forefinger to make her playmate look up. 

The tears had dried, none had fallen. However, Tissaia was blinking much more slowly than was natural. There was a dreamy quality to her eyes. 

“A bit gone, are we?” Her hand moved to Tissaia’s cheek. She remembered her having reacted positively to touch before and now didn’t seem to be an exception. With her eyes closed, she leaned her head sideways as if to snuggle into the warmth of Yennefer’s hand, reminiscent of a puppy seeking attention. Yennefer bit her lip to stop herself from smiling like an idiot. 

“Yes,” she spoke softly with a mischievous smile on her lips that betrayed the dreamy gaze. “Don’t I deserve a reward now?”

She looked up with big eyes, definitely playing her adorable card and Yennefer had to admit that it worked. If someone told her two hours ago she would find a forty-year-old businesswoman adorable, she’d have laughed, but here they were and her head was swimming with all sorts of soft feelings. 

“You’re a minx,” she replied, but the smile on her lips was a sincere one. “What kind of reward?”

“A caning. A proper one. On my backside and thighs. You don’t get to leave before marking me.”

Yennefer laughed. The suggestion was far from what she had expected, but she obliged, more than happy. 

Tissaia had become silent during the caning. She was leaning her entire weight onto the table now, looking to the side, hairs sticking to her face. She had ceased to brush them away somewhere around hit twenty. One of the hands that had grabbed onto the tabletop was now slack and hanging over the edge. The other one had sneaked its way between her thighs at one point to masturbate, but it had stopped to move after only a minute or so, although Yennefer was quite sure she hadn’t come. Most importantly though, Tissaia was smiling brightly as if she were high on drugs. 

Yennefer walked towards her, softly laying a hand on her back. It startled Tissaia despite the effort to be careful. “How are you doing?”

A clear and happy laugh followed the question. It sounded young and carefree. “What does it look like?”

“Would you like to come?”

There was hesitation in Tissaia’s face before she nodded reluctantly as if it took her a lot of courage to admit it.

“Want me to stay close?”

Goosebumps appeared on her skin as Tissaia stiffened visibly. It was an oddly intense reaction to such a simple question, and, for some reason, Yennefer was sure she wouldn’t get an answer.

“Come with me,” she ordered instead. “To the sofa.”

Tissaia complied without another word, and most importantly, without another look. It was as if she didn’t dare let Yennefer see her face, which the Domme kept in mind when she voiced the next command.

“Kneel on top of the cushions, arse in the air. Touch yourself.”

The faint, relieved sigh from beneath the pillows as her hand found its destination between her legs sent a jolt right through Yennefer’s core. For a moment, she simply looked on, taking in the image of Tissaia’s hand inside her briefs, her arched back and shapely behind, and how her toes curled and uncurled as her movements grew frantic. The cane marks on her backside were even and pronounced, not too dark, but offering a nice contrast to the pale skin. Yennefer was proud of her handiwork. 

“Easy there,” she chuckled when her client’s movements got desperate. She walked closer and placed a cool hand on the burning skin on Tissaia’s arse. “You wanted me close, didn’t you?”

Tissaia whimpered. Whimpered. Yennefer felt her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She spanked the arse in front of her, careful not to hit where the cane had landed. “What was that?”

No answer came and none would come, Yennefer knew it. Tissaia wouldn’t be reduced to this. Not so easily, anyway. She spanked her again and again, repeating the question. Her hits were light, but with her skin so sensitive, Tissaia was writhing under Yennefer’s touch and the movement in her briefs became uncontrolled and jerky. 

“Don’t you dare come before answering my question.”

Tissaia meant to chuckle, but it came out as a breathy moan. 

“Stop!” Yennefer all but yelled, roughly grabbing the part of the arm she could reach to halt the frantic motions. “Brat.”

“I wasn’t coming.”

“No, but you were getting close and defying me yet again, which I’ve learnt means you want more pain.”

“You’re a quick learner. I’m looking forward to our seminars together.”

Yennefer all but growled as she pulled Tissaia’s head up by the hair so that she could look at her. “Don’t mock me.”

“Show me what you’ll do if I did.”

The breathy, sadistic laugh didn’t sound like Yennefer’s at all. “Now you’re being cocky.”

“Make me regret it.”

Oh, she would. With a rough movement, she grabbed Tissaia by the arm, pulling her up to a kneeling position. She held her there, an arm tightly encasing the woman’s rib cage. “Go on, touch yourself.”

Tissaia happily obliged. She also leaned into the embrace, which was exactly what Yennefer had expected. It wouldn’t be surprising if she had to spend an hour of aftercare just holding the woman. 

One hand busy circling Tissaia’s throat to keep her in place, Yennefer used the other to rake her nails down the side of Tissaia’s ribs, hard enough to make angry red marks appear on the soft, pale skin. The body in her embrace strained against the hold, but Yennefer had expected her to struggle. She was easily stronger than the tiny woman in her arms. 

She scratched her again, harder, furiously. She wanted Tissaia to break. She trusted her not to. 

Tissaia soon went limp in her arms, no longer fighting against the pain, but embracing it. It was beautiful. Yennefer’s heart beat in her throat. Tissaia kept quiet, but looking at her profile, one could see how blissed out she was, her eyes half-closed and fluttering, her mouth slightly agape. 

“You’re beautiful like that.” The words caused a shiver to run through Tissaia’s body. She whimpered again. “I want to see you come, Tissaia. Can you do that for me?”

The woman in her arms nodded; a frantic, desperate movement. “Scratch me harder when I do, please.”

It was quite surprising she was even able to form a coherent sentence. Yennefer renewed her efforts, careful not to draw blood.

“Thank you,” Tissaia whispered, barely audible, as the onslaught created shiver after shiver through her body. “Thank you, thank you, thank...” Her back arched hard enough to nearly free her from the embrace when she came. It was beautiful. The scratch marks stretching, ribs protruding from the unnatural arch. She gasped, rolling her hips desperately, and when she sunk back onto the sofa, her body was covered in sweat. Yennefer held her close, rocking her back and forth as she came down. Her heart softened as she took in the sight of her client, so dismantled and unwound, pliant in her arms, the smallest of smiles adorning her face.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered smugly. Tissaia sat up at once upon hearing those words, as if ripped out of a dream, fumbling with her handcuffs almost frantically. Yennefer jumped into action, helping her open the buckle. Tissaia’s fingers were shaky. 

“You can go now.”

Yennefer had to double-take. “What?”

“You can go.”

“I’d prefer staying until you’re more stable.” She had seen Tissaia, observed how close she had wanted to be, how much she enjoyed the softness and proximity. She was still shaking ever so slightly, making her unable to stand straight as she now stood up. 

Tissaia looked almost touched at the words. “That will not be necessary.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I don’t need aftercare, my dear.” The nickname made Yennefer scowl. “I can take care of myself.”

“I never doubted you can.”

“All I need is a hot shower and quiet.”

“Alright then.” She knew it was a lie. She knew Tissaia would prefer to be held. Or maybe she was projecting. Maybe she just wanted to hold Tissaia. She scoffed, angry with herself, and threw her stuff into the bag. She had never been kicked out so unceremoniously. “Goodnight, Professor de Vries. We’ll see each other next semester, then.”

“That we will.” The older woman’s voice already sounded smoother, more controlled, as she escorted Yennefer to the door. “Goodnight, Yennefer. And thank you.”

Just as she closed the door behind the young woman, a shiver went through Tissaia’s body, and the sob she had held in for at least half an hour escaped her throat. She barely managed to walk back to the sofa before collapsing and cried as soon as her body hit the cushion that was still warm from their shared body heat. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Pizza past midnight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer finds herself in a comfortable routine that is about to be shaken up by Tissaia and a sufficient quantity of wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be safe, here are two possible triggers: Mentions of bad BDSM etiquette and mentions of blood. 
> 
> The wait was long but here it is. I wanted to make a joke about waiting unil Kinktober to post it on purpose, but alas, it's 1am on the first day of November. Oh well.
> 
> I'm sorry if that's what you came here for, but there's no smut in this chapter. There will be one or two more chapters to this story, though, depending on how the stuff in my head translates to paper.  
> Also, again thanks to my beta Sadsnail for reading this monster at least 10 times and not losing her nerves.  
> Sadly, she cannot beta any more of my works for a few months. So if anyone feels a calling to beta chapter 3, please message me on Tumblr or just write a comment. :)

Psychology 101 was boring.

It wasn’t Professor de Vries’s fault. At least she had a pleasant speaking voice and knew how to form coherent sentences, which one would think to be a hiring criteria for lecturers, but looking at the other professors, Yennefer had quickly ascertained it wasn’t.

Psychology 101 was boring largely because of the dry and superficial subject material. If only they would stop talking about Freud! Having to pretend his works were still relevant was frustrating and his fascination with sexuality in children was troubling, to say the least. 

It also didn’t help that, after last night’s play session, Yennefer hadn’t been home before midnight. With class starting at eight, she was currently running on caffeine and a less than brilliant mood.

In the end, it was probably the mixture of both that really killed the mood for Yennefer today. Not for the first time, she wondered why anyone would choose to teach such a tiresome class. As the head of department, couldn’t Professor de Vries decide which courses she gave? 

Maybe there had been a lack of volunteers. Yennefer grinned to herself as she took a sip of the lukewarm coffee that got her through the morning. Or maybe, someone had realised that whenever anyone other than her gave the boring courses, attendance rates dropped significantly. 

Professor de Vries had a fanbase. Indeed, it seemed to be a common occurrence for students to find themselves desperately crushing on her. There was fanart, idiots threw around the term “MILF” like free spankings at a dungeon event, and the nerdy guy two rows in front of Yennefer had been drawing a portrait for three or four sessions now. He was talented, but it was creepy, and it was one of the most cringeworthy moments of Yennefer’s life when she witnessed him giving it to Professor de Vries after class.

"Oh, thank you, Istredd. That is… very kind." A forced smile accompanied the quizzical expression of gratitude. Of course, Istredd was oblivious. 

"I hope you don't mind it, Professor, but I have to draw to concentrate and I always draw the most beautiful thing I see."

Professor de Vries accepted the compliment with resigned discomfort and handled it with so much composure that Yennefer was sure this hadn’t been the first time. She cringed at the thought of situations like this being a regular occurence. When Istredd finally left the auditorium and the professor’s exhausted eyes found hers, she couldn’t help but sympathize.

It was the first time they consciously looked at each other since the session. The realisation left Yennefer dumbstruck. Sentimentality didn’t suit her, and neither did poesy. She certainly didn’t want to be associated with the kind of characters in romance novels who spent half of the book hoping, pining, lusting after the one person who was discernibly different from all the rest. Nevertheless, for just one small moment, she felt a heavy lump in her chest.

She had daydreamt a bit, which was unsurprising after such an intriguing session. On a few occasions, Yennefer had even found herself feeling bummed that nothing could come of it, that she was bound to speculate the might-have-beens with no realistic chance of ever seeing them come to fruition. It wasn’t a constant on her mind, though. Not even during class when she was forced to watch Tissaia for hours on end. Should Tissaia ever want to book her again, it wouldn’t be too confusing to dominate her while viewing her as an authority figure in another context. Yennefer was no fool, though. Three months of no contact were a clear enough indicator that the play session had been a one-time engagement. 

So, she breathed the lump away and watched Tissaia’s posture straighten as though she was waiting for another one of her students to make advances.

"Is there a diagnosis for this?" Yennefer asked casually, pointing into the direction of the door Istredd had just used to leave. 

Tissaia eased off her stance and began packing her notebook and pencil case into a leather bag. What had she expected, anyway? That after three months of no contact, Yennefer, a professional sex worker, would come and make a scene? 

"I would never make a diagnosis by proxy. My suggestion, however, is that he's psychologically not mature enough for a relationship, but physically, his body confronts him with needs, so in order to cope, he finds himself someone who is unattainable."

"I saw him walking up to you and didn't want to miss the big reveal. He had been drawing this for four sessions now."

"It's not a bad drawing, a bit euphemistic maybe.” Shaking her head, she folded the portrait neatly, and put it in the trash bin before leaving through the side entrance.

Little conversations became a common part of their routine from then on. It only took them a few weeks before they started grabbing coffee together, which made it feel all the more personal. Bit by bit, Tissaia revealed trivialities about her life, and Yennefer was not embarrassed to admit she remembered and cherished every single one of them. They didn’t dive too deeply into unfamiliar terrain, of course, and many questions remained unasked. For example, when Tissaia revealed she was, in fact, married and mentioned her wife being an art historian and currently on a trip to Australia, Yennefer couldn’t help but wonder if she knew that Tissaia had booked a Pro-Domme.

She didn’t ask, though. It was not her place to judge and while Yennefer was itching to talk about kink in general, she didn’t want to overstep; a faux-pas in that direction had the eventuality of ending in a catastrophe. Yennefer was not ready to lose this fragile acquaintanceship, if only because it helped her ignore that she still hadn’t found any other ones in university. So, she sat back, bound to wait and hope that, one day, they would be comfortable enough around each other to open up.

Tissaia had classes on Monday and Thursday, both being the introductory courses Yennefer visited. The rest of the time, she spent doing administrative tasks, which to Yennefer sounded like a rather uneventful and stressless work week, but she didn’t dare comment on it. It seemed like the university leadership was under the control of absolute idiots, so maybe this was the only way Tissaia didn’t end up with burnout. 

For a few weeks, everything was well. They ended up chatting in front of the coffee vending machine two days a week, which elevated their little coffee party to Yennefer’s most regular social contact since high school. Mondays lost their negative connotation and Thursdays became something Yennefer actually looked forward to. Much to her secret delight, she soon saw some of the idiots from Tissaia’s fanclub eyeing her with suspicion and outright envy.

After weeks of internalizing this little routine, Yennefer found herself in reasonable shock when, on one Monday morning, Tissaia decided to flee out of the auditorium instead of waiting for her.

Logic told Yennefer the sensible reaction would be to just head home. She definitely shouldn’t go after Tissaia when it was so obvious she didn’t want to talk, but blame her stubbornness for this one, she wasn't going to be left standing in the rain. 

The unfortunate mixture of short legs and a predictable stop at the vending machine made it easy for Yennefer to catch up with the escapee. When she looked into Tissaia's face, though, and saw discomfort written all over it, it made her feel a painful lot like Istredd. She had half a mind to turn around to go home. 

"Good morning, Yennefer." Tissaia’s tone was clipped and nothing short of unwilling. "I'm afraid I don't have time to dawdle today."

"Sure. I'm just grabbing coffee." As though it wasn't clear she had practically run after her professor. Tissaia nodded at the transparent excuse and remained silent. 

In her peripheral view, Yennefer quietly observed her professor for as long as it took to wait in line and grab the muddy, grey-brown water they sold as coffee. Maybe she just wanted there to be a good reason for Tissaia’s rejection, but something about her rang alarm bells.

The signs were small at first. Stiff movements, especially while walking, eyes darting around restlessly as if she had something to hide and when her thighs bumped into the table next to the vending machine, she winced. Yennefer would have believed she was seeing things if not for the fact that, when Tissaia turned around and noticed the observant gaze, she scoffed and blushed visibly before turning around and fleeing into the direction of her office.

For a moment, Yennefer was too flabbergasted to get her cappuccino. Her hands fidgeted as she pressed the buttons and she couldn’t stop squirming until she was able to grab the steaming hot beverage. She forced her fingers to still around the warming cup. If Tissaia was uncomfortable talking about new kinky experiences, that was valid and fine. It made sense that she would rather stay to herself with fresh marks she was unable to fully hide from Yennefer’s watchful eyes. By the next class, everything would be normal again. 

Needless to say, nothing was normal on Thursday.

This time, Yennefer noticed it early. Stiff, deliberate movements, wincing, an unsteady voice; too much to assume it was just residual ache from Monday. It felt like a punch in the guts at first, before one particular detail about Tissaia's state came to the forefront of her mind: She was barely holding it together and it was written all over her face. 

"And as opposed to Freud, Watson insisted… He insisted that the conscience was not a fruitful subject for scientific research, but behaviour… as behaviourism indicates, of course… you surely remember the black box alternative I talked about in our last session?" Tissaia seemed lost on the big stage, looking as small and frail as she was, and it took everything out of Yennefer not to jump up and save her from stumbling over any more words. 

After the session, Yennefer waited with her arms crossed and her things packed in case Tissaia tried to flee and she had to follow after quickly, but she needn’t have worried. If anything, Tissaia waited for her as well.

"How are you doing?" Yennefer asked in a casual tone as she walked down the stairs.

"Care for a coffee? I know I need one,” Tissaia effectively avoided the question, and quickly led the way. They headed for the cafeteria instead of the vending machine and Tissaia ordered both of their coffees without having to ask Yennefer's preferences. She even paid for them. It was enough to make Yennefer playfully raise her eyebrows to hide her secret delight.

"What's the occasion?" She pointed at the cappuccino in her hand. "Actual coffee on actual chairs?" 

Slipping into the booth opposite of Yennefer's, Tissaia winced ever so slightly at the impact. "My birthday, and because I'm all alone, I decided to celebrate it with my only friend."

For a moment, Yennefer was in such shock she struggled to come up with words, until she saw Tissaia’s lips twitching with the effort not to smile. 

"Oh, come on," she complained weakly, causing Tissaia to bark out a laugh that was infectious enough to conjure a smirk on Yennefer’s lips as well. Despite the small dose of embarrassment at having fallen for the trick, it was reassuring to know Tissaia felt well enough to jest.

"I'm afraid I don't have any other explanation than my dislike for bad coffee and the fact that this is my first one today. It better be good or I cannot assure no murder is going to happen behind these walls."

"Professor Stregobor again?" The head of the university had a hardcore kink for making Tissaia’s life a living hell. 

"Who else?" Tissaia rolled her eyes meaningfully, but her hands were fidgeting, playing with the red and black napkins and plucked threads of yarn from the old tablecloth. 

"Apart from him, are you alright?"

A frown followed the question, then an uncomfortable kind of understanding. "Just because I wanted to sit down to drink coffee? I thought you’d feel honoured."

The humour was shaky and unsure. It made Yennefer want to get up and hug Tissaia and while she knew she shouldn't push the issue, she couldn’t let it go. Her worry was too overwhelming, and to her shame, so was her curiosity. "I know you played, there's no need to hide it."

Tissaia blinked rapidly, her eyes darting around the cafeteria. No one was listening, but her panicked reaction made Yennefer feel bad she had voiced it plainly anyway. Her fingers clenched around her mug to fight the urge to reach over the table and grab Tissaia’s hands. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

"This is neither the time nor the place for such a conversation," Tissaia hissed, the tone of her voice a lot more prone to attract attention than a casual conversation about kink. "If you still carry the hope that one day, I will book you again, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

It was said with steel in her voice, defensive, like a caged animal lashing out. Yennefer knew she shouldn't be mad at her for such a desperate attempt at pushing her away, but it still made her bristle. "I'm not insinuating such a thing.”

Tissaia drowned a sigh in her coffee and took a moment to breathe as if to restrain her temper. "I'm sorry," she admitted reluctantly, her eyes displaying a deliberate kind of honesty even as her words failed to sound sincere. "It wasn't fair of me to bring you here with my nerves so overstrung."

"It's fine.” Yennefer swallowed down the bite in her voice. “You can vent if you want to, or not if that's better.”

"It's alright, I think I…" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes fixated on her coffee as if it was the most interesting beverage in the world. "Just prefered company."

In spite of herself, Yennefer couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from rising. "I happen to enjoy keeping you company."

"That's what I secretly counted on." Her voice still carried an edge of insecurity.

"Is there anything you want to vent about?"

A small, harried laugh. "Not at all, please don't make me."

"So bad, huh?" Yennefer asked and inwardly chided herself for not being able to let it be.

"No, not at all. Talking about something so minor and unimportant would be a waste of time."

"So it's something emotionally devastating and you prefer not to show your weakness." It was only half a jest.

Tissaia fixed her with a playful glare. "No. Just a bit of post-session blues."

Post-session blues. Yennefer could hardly contain her secret joy. Tissaia wanted to talk about it after all. "Someone not given you proper aftercare after a scene?" 

A playful scoff was the only answer she got. Yennefer didn’t know what she had expected to come off her soft taunt, but the reaction left her dissatisfied. Somewhere deep inside, she yearned to ask about why Tissaia had kicked her out back then, about why she hadn’t even wanted to talk, but she remained quiet, stirring her half-empty cappuccino instead as a compensatory action. 

When she looked up into Tissaia’s eyes again and saw an intrigued kind of sympathy; she felt herself blushing, which was the most misleading reaction her body could have. It insinuated a kind of romantic longing that she didn’t feel, but couldn’t deny and thus was now forever damned to be the elephant in the room. "I've held our session in good memory if that helps."

"Me too." Yennefer’s voice sounded strange to her ears. 

"You were very good with the cane, even marks, perfectly aligned…" 

"I had a feeling you would appreciate such detail." She wasn’t sure if the compliment was even meant seriously or if Tissaia was just trying to make her feel less qualmish. 

“The marks today are far less fancy." 

Yennefer schooled her features at once. Instead of wondering about Tissaia’s strange willingness to talk, she had selfishly let herself sink into her own struggle. "Is that so?" 

The column of Tissaia’s throat moved as she swallowed harshly as if she had to force her vocal chords into complying. "Yes… a cat o'nine. Lots of wrapping. Bleeding on my hip bones." 

"Bleeding? Why didn't you stop?!" It left her mouth before she could think, but upon looking at the tight expression on Tissaia's face, Yennefer wished she could take it back. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"I keep asking this myself, believe me." With shaky hands, Tissaia grabbed the now empty coffee mug, looked into it, and placed it back. "I didn't see the bleeding. I didn't notice the intensity until afterwards." 

Her voice was barely above a whisper. She brushed invisible hairs out of her face, but quickly snapped up again, straightened her blouse, and folded her hands neatly, with only her whitening knuckles giving away the emotional turmoil inside of her.

“Are you in pain?”

Jaw tight and eyes looking everywhere but Yennefer, Tissaia nodded. 

“Have you taken pain meds?”

Her eyes snapped up furiously. “I will not take meds against pain my own stupidity inflicted upon me,” she spat. 

The self-deprecation made Yennefer’s heart ache. She wanted to tell Tissaia it was not her fault and that her maltreated body and mind needed a break and care to mend back together. Her stubbornness was only helping to forge it into a traumatic experience. When she saw Tissaia’s tight face and her defensive posture, though, she knew it would be futile.

"It's fine, really.” The words were said with care, as if Yennefer was the one needing solace. “It'll all be chalked up to experience. Just a bad session. Not my first one. Actually, my second one in less than seven days."

"But you wish to talk about it." 

Tissaia's lips thinned at being called out. "Fine. Yes."

"Then go ahead. Stop beating around the bush!"

"Fine," she repeated, her voice strained and almost angry, and Yennefer sat back to prompt her to continue. "I have class soon." 

Her voice was uncharacteristically harried. Yennefer raised her eyebrows.

"I can't talk about it now, not here, not when I'm supposed to teach in less than an hour."

With a defeated shake of her head, Yennefer opened her bag and pulled out a squashed chocolate bar, a half-full bottle of water, and an envelope that she had meant to send two days ago. Her notebook and a pen were, of course, right at the bottom. “Okay, you know what? Fine.”

She ripped out a piece of paper and started writing. “Here. My number. Call me tonight if you find the courage.”

"This is not about a lack of courage," Tissaia insisted with a particularly deep frown. 

"Then call."

The oven beeped to indicate the cheap discount pizza was done baking. Yennefer peeled herself from under her blankets and shuffled towards the small kitchen counter with the old, rusty stove that desperately needed replacement. It was on low priority though, with Yennefer hardly even cooking pasta on the thing. 

Ever since the original oven broke, she used a stand-alone one that was hardly any good and it was only ever meant to serve for a few weeks at most, but it's been months now. Sometimes, Yennefer hated herself for being so lackluster with everything household related. Buying clothes and fancy vases gave her a dopamine rush, but a new stove or washing machine felt like a waste of money. She blamed growing up in foster homes because she blamed all her bad personality traits on this circumstance, knowing deep down she was just evading facing her problems. 

The pizza was burnt on the outside and doughy on the inside. Chewing it felt like chewing on modeling clay and why was the sausage all on one side? With a dramatic groan, Yennefer leaned back into the comfortable cushion of her luxurious sofa. Buying fancy living room furniture was easier than replacing the kitchen gear. Her cat had seized the chance to hog the blanket in the meantime and was now lying comfortably on the soft fleece, stretching her paws and kneading the fabric. Yennefer couldn't bring herself to steal it back. 

Tissaia hadn't called on Thursday. It was Monday now, and after today's class, she had fled the room so quickly Yennefer hadn't managed to follow her again. Despite knowing how ridiculous it was, Yennefer was living out her overdramatic hurt by every trick of the book. Greasy fast food, red wine, the playlist of her goth youth, even a romantic comedy that she couldn't finish because of how stupid it was. 

Giving out her number felt so silly looking back. Tissaia and her weren't friends and Yennefer swore that, once she had the chance, she would declare it was fine and that they could go back to how it had been. If only the little voice in her head would stop spouting that their relationship had been destroyed once and for all by this predicament. 

She pushed the excuse for a pizza aside and grabbed her wine glass instead. There was no time for sentimentality. This was the time to dramatically suffer from embarrassment, loneliness, loss, unrequited love and all the other things she didn't truly feel, but which were so easy to sink into. 

Her phone vibrated for spam mail, which brought her attention to the fact she could just order a pizza online instead of choking down the abomination on her plate. Someone must deliver past midnight, right? 

Just as she picked up the phone, it started ringing, startling her enough she nearly let it drop. No one ever called her, not even spam callers. Yennefer barely managed to take the call. "Hello?"

Silence on the other end of the line; wind and the faint sound of traffic indicated the caller was outside. "Hello?" She tried again. "Anyone there?"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have called," the voice was quiet, but unmistakably Tissaia's. Yennefer perked up. "It's too late to call, I just… sorry."

"Wait!" Yennefer blurted out before Tissaia had the chance to hang up. "It's fine! I'm waiting for my pizza to deliver. I have time."

"Pizza past midnight?" Tissaia asked curiously, but quickly reverted to her former apologeticness. "I'm really sorry for calling. I shouldn't have."

"You should have on Thursday." It was nothing but a petty remark that she couldn’t help but make.

"Yes." The reply came without hesitation. "I should have, but I thought I would manage because I always think I will."

The frankness and resignation surprised Yennefer and she felt any residual anger dissolve into nothing at once. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Well, my dog nearly died today and I spent six hours at the vet. I'm on my way home now… It sucked."

Yennefer half-consciously patted on the blanket beside her, feeling if Harriet was still there. Harriet didn't seem to like being unceremoniously swatted and Yennefer soon felt claws dig into the back of her hand. With a wince, she pulled away. The cat was fine.

"I can imagine. Is he well now?"

"She, and yes. She's well. I suppose she wasn't _that_ close to dying, but I always worry so much and it took so long until we got to even see the vet."

"Did you yell at the poor little frontdesk employees?" 

The light-hearted taunt made Tissaia let out an amused huff of breath. "Yes. And then I started crying hysterically."

Yennefer snorted.

"I know," Tissaia dead-panned. "So funny when you're not me."

"So, do you wish to talk now?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't have called, I suppose, but frankly, it wasn't a conscious decision."

"So bad?"

"Today? Quite bad. My wife is on her two-week business trip and I've found out I don't have anyone to call but you because she is still asleep, which is ridiculously pathetic." A hysterical laugh escaped Tissaia's lips. "Oh, and I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm starving."

"Come over, I'll feed you pizza." With a disgusted face, Yennefer looked at the wobbly mess in front of her.

"Where do you live?"

"Uhm, Belleteyn Street ninety-four." 

"I'm close by. Let me get the dog home. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Wait, really?” Yennefer perked up and looked around the living room, surveying the mess of clothes, food wrappings, latex costumes, the glass dildos on the sink, the hideous boots next to the sofa...

“Yes... unless you were joking? Sorry, of course you were joking, I should sleep more.”

"No! No, come round, I have cheap red wine."

“Oh, how inviting.” The laugh that followed sounded clear, ringing and less hysterical than before. "Okay, I'm on my way!"

The line clicked to signal that Tissaia had hung up already and Yennefer, for a moment, forgot how to move. She took a deep breath as, slowly, everything sunk in. _Twenty minutes_. All but throwing the phone away, she leapt up from her sofa, earning a very annoyed look from her feline friend. "Sorry, Harriet. Mommy's on a mission!"

Twenty minutes to get the chaos under control. The dildos had priority, of course, followed by the trash on the floor and the sofa. Clothes unceremoniously landed in the laundry basket and the sink got freed of hairs and toothpaste residue. Yennefer even managed to halfheartedly vacuum the living room carpet and set the table for the wine and pizza. When the doorbell rang, she had just started dusting bread crumbs off the table. With lacking wipes she quickly brushed off the rest and ran to the door to unlock the entry downstairs. In the time Tissaia took to walk the sixty-three steps, Yennefer looked around and saw a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t allow anyone to enter, but it was too late now. Oh well, Tissaia was the one who had wanted to come over spontaneously, she couldn’t expect everything to be perfect, right?

Yennefer opened the door and stepped outside to look for Tissaia walking upstairs. Surprisingly, she was already on the last five steps. 

"Hi," came the only slightly out-of-breath greeting. 

Yennefer couldn’t help but survey her intently when she passed the door to move into the apartment. Tissaia looked strangely unguarded. The lack of eyebrow pencil made her look young, the lack of rouge showed her paleness and her eyes unframed by mascara looked grimy-grey instead of biting blue. When she took off her grey coat, a plain white turtleneck came into view and together with the light jeans, she seemed a lot less intimidating and far more human. It was an odd look on her, but strangely endearing. Her hairdo was wet, it must have been raining at some point, and she immediately unclipped the pins that held her hair in place. It fell down her shoulders in odd waves and angles, looking knotted and only partly dry. Yennefer was about to ask her if she needed a brush when Tissaia started talking.

"Oh, this apartment is really nice." It was at that moment that Yennefer noticed she had forgotten to hang away the red latex costume by the door.

"A bit chaotic maybe," she admitted in defeat. Would it be better to quickly throw the costume in the laundry or would ignoring it make it less obtrusive? She decided on the latter. "What kind of pizza do you want?"

"You said you already ordered?"

"Yeah, that was a lie." 

Tissaia chuckled while neatly hanging away her coat, making sure the sleeves hung evenly on both sides before walking further into the apartment, trying to comb through the tangle of her hair with her fingers. 

“Do you want a hairbrush?”

“No, I’m fine,” Tissaia insisted, from the looks of it nearly pulling her hair out while trying to detangle a particularly persistent knot. 

Yennefer watched her navigate the living room without showing any signs of awkwardness, soon finding herself a place to sit beside Harriet. It was both admirable and loathly attractive that she didn’t hesitate to make herself comfortable. "Oh, a cat! Hi there, buddy! How are you doing?" 

Tissaia using her baby voice on Harriet was so utterly domestic it made Yennefer's heart leap and she quickly averted her eyes back onto the screen. "Careful, she's a bitch."

"I have a feeling it’s not you who’s the bitch in this household, isn’t that so, sweet kitty?”

Yennefer looked up to the image of Harriet on her back, her paws stretched up, asking for bellyrubs. An incredulous laugh escaped her throat.

"That's new. Harriet, did you find a friend?" Harriet impolitely ignored the question, as usually more the quiet aficionado, so Yennefer turned to Tissaia instead. “What kind of pizza do you want now?”

"Lots of vegetables and extra cheese.” She relaxed back against the comfortable sofa. The dimples on her face made her look incredibly innocent and it did something to Yennefer’s dominant side to see her so unguarded. “Thank you for having me here.”

“It’s… my pleasure. I guess.” She watched Tissaia’s toes curl and uncurl, probably hurting from standing for hours and realised it was likely the first time today Tissaia allowed herself to sit down. It only furthered the urge to take care of her, and Yennefer quickly looked back onto the phone to order. There were three restaurants who still delivered, all sounded a bit shady, but one of them had above average ratings, so she picked that one. Besides, it was the only one that had the option of extra cheese and who was she to deny Tissaia that specific wish? "Pizza is coming in half an hour." 

"Splendid." 

Locking the screen and putting the phone away into the pocket of her jeans, Yennefer finally walked towards the sofa as well. Harriet took up half of the couch, so she was forced to sit down on the same cushion as Tissaia. It felt oddly like she was invading her personal space, even though there was nothing she could do to avoid it. "Your wife isn't going to be mad you're here, right?"

All attention still on Harriet, Tissaia laughed. "My wife is, first of all, not my mother and secondly, fast asleep." She turned towards Yennefer. "Can I have some wine now?"

Shuffling to the side to restore as much physical distance as possible, Yennefer reached over the table to grab the wine bottle. "It's really, really cheap, though, I have to warn you." 

"Hey, do I seem like a wine snob to you?"

"Absolutely." She grinned when Tissaia scoffed. Having only ever bought two wine glasses, one of which she broke during one of this month’s wine galores, she poured the dark liquid into the water glass on the table.

"Not even a wine glass?" 

"See? Snob." 

Tissaia snickered and reached out her hand to receive the wine. "Thank you. This helps... I felt lonely at home ever since the session on Wednesday.” Her fingers glided across the even rills of her glass. “It was a stupid and ill-considered decision to book someone just because I felt unsatisfied with the session on Sunday. Believe me, I will never play with Rita so far away from me again."

“Was she around when we played?”

“Not in the house, obviously, but in a thermal bath nearby.”

“A thermal bath.”

Tissaia shrugged. “She’s friendly with one of the sauna employees. Lars.” The well-timed scrunch of her nose told Yennefer all she needed to know about Lars. She chuckled.

“Does she provide aftercare for you? Your wife, I mean?”

"No," Tissaia laughed as though the notion itself was ridiculous and tugged her leg under her bottom to sit comfortably. "Her presence is aftercare enough. I don't need it, I really don't." She took a sip of the wine. "Ugh."

"Told you it's cheap." Yennefer watched with awe as Tissaia chugged down the content of her glass as if it was a challenge.

"Alright then.” With raised eyebrows, she refilled the glass hovering in front of her face. “So you never need aftercare?” 

“No.” Tissaia shivered as the taste of the wine sunk in. It didn’t stop her from taking another sip. “Whenever people insisted on it, it ended in awkward smalltalk accompanied by a glass of water.”

“No cuddling?”

“I don’t like cuddling. It’s restrictive.” She drank some more, this time without even wincing. “It gets better the more I drink it.”

“But when you get emotional, what do you want?”

“A hot shower. Alone. Why would I need someone to awkwardly pet my back while I cry into a pillow? When is the pizza going to be here?”

“What about talking? Talking about the session, how it went, reassuring one another?”

A deep sigh followed the question. “You’re not letting up, are you?”

“Well, you’re very desperate to change the topic.” She sat back and pouted. It wasn’t like she could explain why she was so keen on knowing what had driven Tissaia to kick her out, other than hurt pride. Genuine interest in her person, maybe. 

“Just because I wanted to avoid having to tell you to stop sticking your nose into other people’s business.” The mild humour in the reprimand sufficed to make Yennefer scoff incredulously.

“I don’t see what’s so bad about talking about a session afterwards instead of kicking me out the door.”

After a long moment of hesitation, Tissaia drew a deep breath. “I didn’t feel like talking.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Tissaia observed her over the rim of her glass and shrugged. “If you deem it necessary.”

Her heartbeat quickening, Yennefer took a calming sip of liquid courage. “Not so much necessary, but doubtlessly very interesting.”

“All right, go ahead.” There was an amused twinkle in Tissaia’s eyes as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. “Let’s talk about it. Do you have a question catalogue at the ready?” 

Yennefer had to bite her tongue so as not to call her out for being a brat because it would be wildly inappropriate without the proper context. “No, because a catalogue could never do all of my submissives justice. I prefer to improvise depending on who I’m dealing with.” 

Tissaia only rolled her eyes. “Always the professional. Come on, I’ve had enough wine.”

Taking a big sip of her own wine in hopes of achieving the same bravery, Yennefer recollected her thoughts. If she stepped back now, that would be like admitting she was a coward and she had never lost a dare before. “Alright. Did you enjoy our session?”

Tissaia’s lips quirked up into a grin so cheeky it was endearing. “Very.”

“What about it?” Creative question-asking was not really something Yennefer was able to pull off at the moment, not with the wine and initial awkwardness. Luckily, Tissaia didn’t choose to comment on it.

“Not so much a particular action, but rather the flow of energy. Nonverbal clues, communication with few words, seamless transitions. It didn’t feel like a first session.” Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Yennefer had to clear her throat, her voice raspy in her own ears. “I guess your experience showed. You made the energy flow with your insubordination, but didn’t halt it with actually refusing too much.”

“Thank you!” Tissaia let out a huff of breath. “Do you know how many Doms just completely freak when I’m only trying to throw some bread crumbs?”

“You’re a challenge.” 

“To you, yes, because you dealt with it well.” She took a petulant sip of her wine. “I adapt to who I play with and I do it well. Some people just don’t know how human interaction works.”

“Like the person you played with last week?” 

When tension made Tissaia’s shoulders visibly tighten, Yennefer was all but ready to backpedal. Opening the topic had felt right, but now, Tissaia seemed highly uncomfortable and that was not at all what Yennefer had wanted. 

“It was like she reeled off a program and when I guided her into what I wanted, she was furious. I told her that I’d prefer her to just hit me with the whip instead of trying to dominate me, and it’s understandable that it insulted her. I just wanted it not to leave me as unfulfilled as before.” She shrugged. “She might have gone overboard in her anger.”

When Tissaia looked up into Yennefer’s appalled expression, she faltered. “I wasn’t unsafe at any point, I promise. Had I noticed how much damage she’d done… I wanted to endure it for my own good.”

“Of course you would,” Yennefer conceded and took a sip of wine to flush down the unwell feeling in her chest. She had seen how Tissaia could lose herself in sensations, and the thought that someone would use that state to inflict damage… 

“When the whipping got intense, I felt the ghost of your hand on my back.” Despite the quiet tone, Yennefer perked up at once, ripped out of her dark thoughts. 

“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. Her body felt like she was being pressed down by a weight so heavy that even breathing took an immense amount of deliberate effort. In turn, her reaction seemed to make Tissaia feel highly uncomfortable about what she just disclosed. 

“Yeah.” She started detangling her hair again, out of awkwardness most likely, using blunt force, and without thinking, Yennefer grabbed her wrist. She quickly let go upon noticing, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. Addressing it would only make it worse. 

“Let me get you a hairbrush. This is unwatchable.” 

Tissaia sat back with a little half-smile on her face and it gave Yennefer reassurance that she hadn’t so dearly misstepped that the night was now bound to end catastrophically. Maybe it had even helped avoid the uncomfortable silence.

The image of Harriet stretching over Tissaia’s lap greeted her when she reemerged with a cleaned-out brush in her hand. Shaking her head incredulously, she walked up to them both, handing Tissaia the brush and regarding Harriet with conflicted emotions. “She likes you more than me, it’s unbelievable.”

“Cats are creatures of no logic or sense of compassion.” She grinned and took the brush to begin tending to her hair in earnest, but the bristles only seemed to tangle her hair more as she pulled roughly, prompting Yennefer to grab her wrist again.

“This hurts just looking at it.” It must be the wine combined with the pent-up tension that made Tissaia dissolve in giggles. 

“My scalp isn’t very sensitive,” she reasoned, but Yennefer had already taken away the brush. 

“Let me,” she insisted, which must also be the wine talking and so must be Tissaia agreeing to it. It wasn’t until Yennefer started brushing out knots at the tips that she noticed what she was doing and had half a mind to throw the brush away and pretend this didn’t happen.

“Is this considered indecent behaviour?” she joked instead, hoping that addressing it would make it feel less embarrassing. It didn’t.

“Well,” Tissaia drawled, sounding decidedly blissed out, and shivered as the bristles softly glided against the skin of her neck. “Not any more indecent than talking about how beautifully you caned my arse, I’d wager.”

Reluctantly admitting that she was right, Yennefer continued, diligently detangling the matted hair that resembled a damp bird-nest. 

“What was _your_ favourite part, by the way?” Tissaia asked softly as Yennefer continued her ministrations streak by streak, always careful not to put any pressure on Tissaia’s scalp.

“Hm.” Yennefer meticulously divided another strand of hair from the rest. “The end.”

She knew she didn’t have to explain further when she saw Tissaia’s posture slacken. “I was very gone then.”

“Do you remember it?”

A chuckle. “I do and I did, many of the following nights.”

Yennefer’s hands stilled for a second, but she picked up her work quickly enough to hope Tissaia didn’t notice. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I think Rita even got a bit jealous because I wouldn’t stop looking at the cane marks and that’s an accomplishment in itself. They took two weeks to fully fade and I was really sad when they did.”

The image of Tissaia inspecting her marks in front of a mirror was an unexpectedly sentimental one and Yennefer found herself brushing with more intent until there were no tangles left. Satisfied with the results, she put the hairbrush aside and turned around, bumping against Tissaia’s side in the process and making her hiss.

“Still that bad?” 

“They became inflamed because in the midst of my self-deprecation, I didn’t feel like cleaning them.” At Yennefer’s reproachful look, Tissaia smiled apologetically. “I cleaned them out yesterday, but now they hurt again.”

“Show me,” Yennefer insisted completely out of maternal instincts. It didn’t occur to her that Tissaia would have to strip for them to be visible. She almost stopped Tissaia when she wordlessly pulled the turtleneck over her head, but it all went so fast.

“Oh, uhm,” she couldn’t help but voice her awkwardness, and Tissaia threw her a cheeky glance over the shoulder. It was hard to remain flustered when she saw the angry red colour around the almost healed stripes, though. 

With her head still turned, Tissaia observed Yennefer’s face. “I know. You really should know how not to wrap when using a knotted cat o’nine.” She leaned forward to grab the wine bottle, refilling both of their glasses and handing Yennefer hers who took it, sipped thoughtlessly and winced as the sour taste bit her tongue. It didn’t matter though. Her eyes were glued on the marks that Tissaia was so carelessly brushing off as if they were not flaming red and rather gruesome.

The ones on Tissaia’s back, criss-crossing over her shoulder blades, had paled to near-inconspicuousness and looked like they healed well. However, under her arms, on her ribcage and around her hips, there were marks from when the whip had wrapped around the corners of her body, gaining momentum in the process and cutting into skin.

It was a rookie mistake, one that happened once in a while and, depending on who one played with, ended a session or caused a laughing fit, but these marks came from more than one circumstance of wrapping. They clearly showed the Domme who caused them was either inexperienced and unable to handle a whip or inflicted them on purpose. Yennefer bristled at the thought of the latter.

“I have no idea why I didn’t notice them.” Tissaia’s voice was quiet. “I hope they won’t scar now that they’re inflamed. That would be on me, though.”

“Yes, but the marks themselves… that’s bodily injury in front of a court.”

“I’m aware of that, Yennefer.” The usage of her name made Yennefer lose momentum in her rage. “I’ve been doing BDSM for more than twenty years and the Dominant I played with was young and reckless. She didn’t notice it, but I should have. There are people I can allow myself to tune out with and then there are young Dominants who reel off a program and make an inexperienced impression.”

“What did she do when she saw the cuts?”

“Nothing.” Tissaia placed her glass back on the coffee table.

“Did she apologize?”

The lack of an answer told Yennefer all she needed to know.

“Do you usually shelter strangers from blame while at the same time being so hard on yourself?” She drank another sip just because the glass was still in her hand. The wine was having an effect on her and Tissaia had been right: it was getting less disgusting the more she drank it.

“Maybe.” 

“Why!?” Yennefer sat up straight, her head spinning just a bit when she whipped around to face Tissaia. “You’re beautiful and strong, you spent six hours at the vet all alone without waking your wife even though you were running on fumes and even my fucking asshole cat likes you! Who, if not you, deserves the lenience you offer others?”

Her passionate speech fell on deaf ears and she nearly growled when Tissaia started laughing. “Oh, aren’t you drunk, my dear.”

“I mean it.” 

The look on Tissaia’s face, brows furrowed to show just how endearing she found her antics, made Yennefer want to scream. 

“It makes me so angry that you, as someone who gets so into a really hard caning they drift off, gets pushed over by someone who meant harm.”

“You seriously believe her to have done it on purpose?” The disbelieving tone made Yennefer fume.

“Yes, Tissaia. That’s exactly what I believe.” She inhaled deeply to control her anger. “Have you whipped someone before?”

“No,” Tissaia admitted reluctantly, picking up her wine glass again just to play with the rim.

“It’s not like those things can elude you. Even if you don’t see it happening: The person you whip is going to react disproportionately to the force you’ve used. There’s no way you won’t notice it after the fucking tenth time!”

“I suppose I got numb to the pain,” Tissaia said and Yennefer wasn’t sure if she just wanted to drop this information or if she was trying to reason with her. “It was all a bit too much. I should have stopped before I got to that point, I know, but in hindsight...”

“If you tell me you should have stopped this before one more time, I swear to God, I will throw the pizza in your face once it came.”

An unwilling laugh escaped her throat. “When is it going to be here, anyway? I’m starving.”

“Any minute now.” 

Yennefer still couldn’t avert her eyes from the flaming red margins of the cuts. Without her cooperation, her hand reached out to touch them lightly, feeling the unevenness with professional curiosity. They were still hot to the touch. “What did you do to clean them?”

It wasn’t until she looked up that she saw Tissaia’s eyes were blissfully closed. “Neosporin.”

“You should cover them.”

“I will not wrap my entire upper body up in bandages for a few little cuts.”

Before Yennefer could make a dozen points as to why she should, in fact, wrap her upper body up in bandages for a few little cuts, a phone rang. She grabbed her own one, hoping for the pizza to deliver, but before she noticed it wasn’t even her ringtone, Tissaia had taken the call.

"Honey!" she exclaimed and for some reason, put the call on speaker. There was a certain comedic value to Tissaia calling someone _honey_ and Yennefer was totally going to give her shit for it as soon as they both were sober again.

"Are you drinking?" Came the immediate reply muffled through the phone.

"Pf, no. I mean, yes. But just wine." 

"Alone?"

"No, with Yennefer." As if the name would ring a bell.

"Yen… Yennefer?"

"I told you about her. The one I played with three months ago?"

"The one who is also your student?" Now the person on the other end of the line, hopefully the wife, sounded like she was talking to a demented person. Yennefer could hardly suppress a snort.

"Yeah." Tissaia reached over the table to pour herself another glass of wine. "Don't worry, we’re not fucking, although somehow, I still ended up half-naked.” 

"Ah. Clearly." Obviously lost for words, the woman on the other end of the line cleared her throat. "How's Queenie?"

"Better… I suppose she wasn't even as close to death as I thought."

"I suppose not.” The smile in her voice was audible even through the distorting effects of the speaker. “And what exactly are you doing in the home of a student at 1 am?”

“I was lonely.”

“And now you’re drunk. Am I on speaker?”

“Aye!”

“Is Yennefer close by?”

“Yes,” Yennefer stepped in before Tissaia had the chance.

“Yennefer!” Rita sighed and the resigned tone made the young woman grin. “I’m sorry, she never drinks.”

"It’s all right." 

"Don't let her drive. She will tell you she's fine to drive home and it might even seem like she is, but if you let her drive, I'm going to kill you. She's your liability now, I'm sorry."

“Hey!” Tissaia rejoined the conversation. “I’m not that drunk. Just at the point of opening up.”

“Just please don’t fuck her.”

“Fuck you!” Tissaia countered in such a happy tone that it made Yennefer instinctively smile with her.

"I have a sofa and a double bed,” she guided the conversation back to the topic. A beat, then she quickly added: "For sleeping, I mean.” Another beat. “I guess we'll go for the sofa."

Tissaia's wife laughed. "I don't care."

The doorbell rang and Yennefer all but jumped up. “Pizza!”

“Pizza past midnight?” sounded through the phone, but Yennefer was already halfway through the living room.

When she came back, the pizza delivery guy paid and tipped, two big cartons in her hand, Tissaia was sitting up on the sofa, clothed again, petting Harriet who was rubbing against her leg. The original wine bottle was empty, so before setting down the cartons, Yennefer brought another one from the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure I should drink any more of this,” Tissaia complained, but it didn’t sound all too sincere.

“Did your wife tell you not to?”

“No, the only thing she warned me about is driving and sleeping with you.”

“I see.” Opening the pizza cartons to determine which is whose, she placed the vegetarian one with extra cheese in front of Tissaia. 

“I don’t want to sleep with you, by the way,” Tissaia explained as she tried, and failed, to elegantly move the pizza from the carton onto the plate. It nearly slipped to the ground, but she rescued it, moved it into a safe position and licked the sauce off her hand.

“Successful in a roundabout way,” Yennefer summarized as she sat down and earned a playful sideways glance. “I don’t want to sleep with you, either.”

“Hm.” Tissaia nodded as she began to cut her pizza into even slices and Yennefer had to grin because she had somehow expected her to be the kind of person to eat it with a knife and a fork. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t send the wrong signals. Clear boundaries are important.”

“I would have said no, even if you asked right now.”

“Ouch.” The playful response made Yennefer smile. “I wasn’t so sure.”

Oh, yes. That elephant in the room. “May I be completely honest?” A nod prompted her to continue. “No sub after you compared to our session, I find myself mourning that it can’t be, and the thought of fucking you has never occurred to me, not once.”

“Why not?” An eyebrow raised in playful indignation, but the relaxed body posture showed relief at Yennefer’s words.

“I think firstly, because it was a clear boundary from the very beginning and I like my fantasies being realistic and secondly, what we’ve done, it didn’t feel inherently sexual to me.”

Tissaia’s shoulders slackened as she exhaled. “In the state of mind I enter in the presence of pain, sexual touches often feel invasive somehow, like I’m being taken advantage of. Am I making sense? I fear this is the wine talking.”

“You’re making perfect sense,” Yennefer assured her. “It didn’t even occur to me to touch you sexually. Not even when you masturbated right in my arms.” She frowned as she contemplated her own words. In hindsight, it surprised her.

“I noticed and appreciated it, especially because the only place your hands would have comfortably reached were my nipples and they kind of hurt.” 

Yennefer laughed. “Didn’t coming in my arms count as cuddling as well, by the way? Wasn’t it too restrictive?” The teasing was met with a scoff.

“I didn’t mind it anymore, not in that headspace. I was rather glad about the comfort.”

“Indeed, you leaned into it quite a bit.”

The response was postponed because Tissaia had just taken a bite out of her pizza, her nose scrunching up into a playful display of embarrassment when she quickly swallowed. “Are you accusing me of wanting to cuddle? I’d never.”

They both chuckled, and in spite of herself, Yennefer felt warm and fuzzy after the exchange. When she looked into the brightly smiling face, she felt a fondness she remembered she felt when Tissaia unraveled in her care. Before she could think about it, the confession had left her mouth. “I miss playing with you.”

“Honestly?” Tissaia placed the pizza slice back into the carton and turned to face Yennefer. “I’d love to just say screw it and play with you.” 

The two-sided confession left them in a tense silence. Yennefer’s pizza tasted like nothing all of the sudden and she gnawed the edges with no appetite. Her heart was beating ridiculously hard from all the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“There are no legal repercussions,” Tissaia all but whispered into the stillness. 

“I know.” She put the tasteless pizza slice back into the carton as well. “I googled it.”

“Rita googled it.”

“Why?”

A bit timid all of a sudden, Tissaia bit her lips. “Because she was annoyed with me going on and on about how I was definitely going to lose my job.” 

“I wouldn’t have called on you!”

“You never know!” Tissaia laughed half-heartedly. Another small silence. “There are many reasons not to book you, right?” 

A self-deprecating smile was all Yennefer could produce. “Are there?”

“The session I had on Saturday was so boring that I booked another Domme for Wednesday, which was financially unwise and in the end, even worse. I just don’t know anymore. It’s like destiny wants me to just book you.”

Yennefer shook her head. “I’m not going to go ahead and tell you to do it. That’s not for me to decide.”

A sigh. “I guess.” Another sigh, more dramatic this time. “Why can’t you study mechanical engineering? Why can’t you study anywhere that isn’t Aretuza University?” Tissaia buried her head in her hands. “Do you know how hard it is to find a Dominant you click with and who doesn’t want to get into your pants?”

“Oh, I’d totally have sex with you given the chance.” It was a meek try to elevate the mood. 

“Do you know how many Dominants I’ve been with and played with in my life before I met Rita? I only started dating in the vanilla world out of frustration when my ex Dominant tried to punish me for refusing a rule I explicitly stated I felt uncomfortable with.” 

“Is that what made you start playing with professionals?”

The question snapped Tissaia out of her rant. “Actually, you were my first in that regard.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She refilled her glass. “I missed it so, so much in phases that got longer and longer and when the semester ended, the free time to think about it drove me mad. There was a rigger I used to play with in the beginning of my marriage who moved away, and with my rheumatism getting worse in my joints and hips, I cannot do bondage anymore anyway. I didn’t do anything BDSM-related for more than a year until I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Clients enjoying pain due to chronic illness was something Yennefer was well-acquainted with. She hadn't expected Tissaia to be one of them, even though the request for no kneeling and no bondage were an indicator. It made a lot of sense though, regarding the way she requested pain in certain ways and how she was able to take so much while still relaxing into it. 

“Did you try having your wife dom you?” she asked curiously, wondering if she couldn't at least bring temporary relief to the chronic pain. Yennefer knew she would want to do anything to make her partner forget about the chronic illness for a while. 

Having just taken a sip of her wine, Tissaia struggled not to spit it out when she laughed. “Oh, we tried, but it resulted in laughing fits and awkwardness. No, she doesn’t have a single dominant bone in her body, you'll see should you get to know her. She’s a bit on the submissive side, if anything. While she was willing to continue to try, it felt wrong to make her when the thought of hurting me made her feel so uncomfortable." 

"I get that." A contemplative silence followed in which Yennefer suddenly realised that Tissaia had insinuated that she might get to know her wife personally. Why did she think that? Were they on the way to become actual friends? Would Yennefer finally have people to play board games for three or more players with? 

"It was unusually emotional for me to let you dom me. With the chronic pain getting worse, when you caned me and it completely drowned it out, that was… I was scared I wouldn't be able to take pain anymore, but it all came back naturally and I never wanted it to stop ever again." She laughed, but it was a sad sound. "I'm currently at the point that made me stop wanting to be part of BDSM again."

"And your solution for this?"

"I don't have one. Rita says I should just play with you if it makes me so happy." She laughed again. “Although the first thing I did when you left was cry." Her eyes wandered to the empty wine bottle. "It always takes exactly one bottle to make me deep-talk, I'm sorry."

"Why did you cry?" Yennefer asked, ignoring the apology.

"Emotions?" Tissaia looked up with an unsure smile. "It felt lonely all of a sudden. I was cold."

"And why again did you not want me to perform aftercare for you?"

"We didn't know each other. I… I knew I would start crying eventually. It was all so much to take in, and I didn't want you to see me cry." There were tears glistening in the corners of her eyes now and she angrily wiped them away. "Sorry, it's just the wine, I swear."

"Does the wine also neutralise your dislike for hugs?"

Tissaia's jaw tightened in an effort not to cry when she nodded. Yennefer quickly pulled her into the strongest embrace she could offer. As if the effort to hold herself upright had been too much and hardly endurable, Tissaia all but collapsed into her, putting her arms around Yennefer's waist as if her life depended on it. Nothing gave away if she was crying or not, and for the moment, it wasn't important. With reassuring, even movements, Yennefer stroked her back in circles, making sure to put on even pressure. As expected, Tissaia started breathing in tandem with the movements. Soon, she started to relax in Yennefer’s arms.

"I admit this would have helped," she said in a quiet voice.

"Oh, you don't say." It was soft mockery without bite. "But you're too proud to admit aftercare might sometimes help you, even if it's not vitally necessary to your wellbeing."

"Should we ever get to play again, I will let you give me aftercare, I promise."

"I'll take you by your word, should we ever get to play again."

"Should we ever get to play again," Tissaia repeated and extracted herself from the hug. "And I truly hope we will."

  
  
  
  



	3. Derailment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorting out desires would be easy if it didn't require so much communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took... long. I'm sorry. I hope the next chapter doesn't take quite as long to complete, but the story isn't easy to write and requires lots of editing. Without a bigger project like the secret santa story in planning, I hope to finish the last chapter within a month, but I won't make promises :D 
> 
> Anyway. I hope someone still wants to read this. Thank you for the engagement in previous chapters. I appreciate it. <3

Yennefer crossed her legs and took a distracted sip of lukewarm coffee. Her eyes lingered on defined shoulder blades and she thanked every God in existence that after three weeks of beer bellies and hairy backs, she was given the gift of Tissaia, naked and free for her to touch however she pleased. 

Her eyes wandered to arms outstretched to the sides and the full coffee mugs in each hand. The line between triceps and biceps showed as Tissaia’s arms flexed and relaxed, redistributing the weight to muscle groups that weren’t already quivering. She looked into the mirror in front of them, appraising how the trembling caused the chain that connected the nipple clamps to move. A side effect she hadn’t thought about, but would gladly market as part of the plan. Yennefer barely hid a smirk as her eyes found Tissaia’s burning glare. “Rita’s yoga lessons are really paying off, you know?” 

“Funny.” 

Oh, how she’d missed playing with her. “What? Are we getting cynical now?” 

A scoff was all Tissaia offered as a response. The two mugs trembled hazardously and her eyes flitted over to each of them in rapid succession to make sure no coffee had spilled. “You know I can easily just lower my arms and nothing will happen, right?”

“As soon as your stubbornness will let you, you mean? Hm.” Yennefer stood up. The height difference made it easy for her to peek over Tissaia’s shoulder and into her eyes. 

Tissaia met the look with raised eyebrows. “If you had more patience than a toddler in a grocery store begging their mother to go home, you could have easily attached twine to the clamps to tie around the curtain rod and connect to the mugs.” 

“Oh, but what use would the mirror be then?” Yennefer had considered doing predicament bondage, but without preparation? Physics had never been her strong suit and when she had thought about how to connect the mugs to the nipple clamps and make it so lowering the arms would pull up the clamps, her head had started aching. This would work just as well.

“I don’t understand what it’s doing here in the first place.”

“Of course not, you haven’t looked into it once except to look daggers at me.” 

The daggers intensified at that. 

“Besides, I don’t need bondage to put you in a predicament.” She raised her own coffee mug high enough to show in the mirror. “Try it.”

Tissaia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she lowered her arms by a few inches before halting abruptly enough to nearly spill them. Eyes comically wide with shock, she looked at Yennefer’s mug that had tipped in tandem with her movement. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered and the sheer disbelief in her voice was delightful.

“Hm.” Yennefer left the cup in the exact same position. “Rita does want a new carpet.”

“You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t dare ruin my carpet!” She was positively fuming now, close to spitting fire, and the look in her eyes would surely be intimidating for anyone else, but Yennefer didn’t waver until Tissaia reluctantly raised her arms again. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Yennefer sing-songed in a way she knew drove Tissaia absolutely mad. 

“I hate you.”

“Oh, I’m sure by the end of the night, you will cry out that you love me again.” 

A fierce, deep red blush crept up Tissaia’s face and down her clavicles. “That was one time and I certainly didn’t mean it!”

“You didn’t mean this, either.” Yennefer slowly stepped around the trembling arms and lazily picked up the chain that connected the nipple clamps. The small movement alone was enough to make Tissaia hiss.

“Why am I even telling you my likes and dislikes if you turn them against me every time?” 

Being well aware the only thing clamps did to Tissaia was annoying her enough to give her an attitude, Yennefer only offered a sweet smile. “Are they too much for you? You wouldn’t be close to a breaking point now, would you?”

“No. Just like in the three sessions before this one, if I recall correctly.” The bratty response earned Tissaia a hard tug of the chain. 

“Dangerous territory you're treading, my dear.” Yennefer let her fingers glide over the little metallic wheel. The clamps were only set firmly enough not to slide off. There was quite a bit of leeway to up the intensity and Tissaia shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. “I could easily break you with just those.”

“Though where would be the fun in that?” Tissaia interjected and her elbows gave way. She groaned as another sharp tug made her straighten them again. “This is also really no fun.”

“I strongly disagree.” Yennefer picked up the knotted flogger that they had used earlier from the coffee table. “But allow me to make it more exciting for you.”

This particular flogger had turned out to be Tissaia’s favourite, stingy but not too harsh, lacking the bite of a whip, but concentrated on one point enough to have the desired impact. There was an expectant smile on Tissaia’s lips as Yennefer walked around her, casually flicking the handle in her wrist, slowly building a rhythm before striking. 

Tissaia inhaled sharply when the strands connected with her shoulder blades, and her arms sank as she got just a bit lost in the sensation.

“Arms,” Yennefer reminded her over the sound of the strikes and was pleased to see them jerk up, no snarky remark accompanying the action. Whenever she dared to, Yennefer looked up from the pattern she formed on deliciously reddening skin and into the mirror to watch Tissaia slowly descending into her happy place: Her mouth slightly agape, breathing in tandem with the hits, eyes unfocused but clear, introspecting and peaceful. 

Yennefer’s heart softened at the sight and the urge to protect Tissaia made her adrenaline level rise to the point of sharpening her focus. That was what she had needed the mirror for: witnessing Tissaia exposing herself layer by layer. 

Not for the first time, Yennefer wondered what it felt like for Tissaia to be whipped. How she was able not to let it jar her, even when it was stingy like a knotted flogger. It must be learnt behaviour, her brain connecting the impact to the subsequent relief even before it physically happened. From testing her toys on herself, Yennefer knew what a knotted flogger felt like. The pain, while not unbearable, was at the very least uncomfortably prickly and far too sharp to lean into. She gently pushed Tissaia’s arms up and smiled at the responding groan. “I don’t want them to lower again, Tissaia.”

“Why not?” she asked, her mind clearly not following consecutive thoughts anymore. Endearing as it was, Yennefer was not about to let her slip so easily. There were times where Tissaia requested to just be hit into oblivion, but today was no such day. 

“Remember the carpet.” The sing-song voice snapped Tissaia out of her reverie. 

“I can’t hold them any longer,” she complained, but straightened her arms again nonetheless.

“You can and you will, or you’ll have to buy a new carpet.” Yennefer picked up the rhythmic pattern again, the impact making Tissaia gasp. 

“Have you talked to Rita about this? Did she tell you to do this? Because if she did, then…”

“Hush,” Yennefer stopped her rant. “Don’t exert yourself, my dearest, asking questions you know I won’t answer truthfully, either to rile you up or to calm you down.”

“Don’t think I’m stupid, I’m warning you! She made the coffee for the three of us after all and then decided she had to go before she drank hers, which left us with three mugs and...”

“Hush.”

“Fuck you.”

Yennefer stopped the flogging at once. “What was that?”

Tissaia’s eyes shot up to glare at her in the mirror, not uttering a single word in her defence.

“My, first you say you hate me, now you cuss me out, what’s the matter today?” Yennefer arched her eyebrows questioningly. “You’re usually more creative than that.”

The insult struck a chord in Tissaia. She lowered her hands in one swift motion that threatened to spill the coffee. 

“Oh, so we’re play-pretending toddler behaviour now?” Yennefer sighed dramatically. “I’m sad to see you stoop so low.”

“Punish me for it.” 

The request  – or rather demand  –  caught Yennefer off-guard enough that she needed a few seconds to process. She had heard that sentence before, from other clients, mostly on their knees while begging for forgiveness. This was nowhere close to such a situation. The words sounded foreign coming from Tissaia’s mouth.

“Reprieve my carpet. Punish me.”

Finally, Yennefer was able to snap herself out of her reverie, her improvisation skills coming to the fore. “Hm. What would you do to save your carpet? Maybe you can persuade me.”

And because Tissaia was not a boring cliché of a submissive and always good for a surprise, she actually came up with something that made Yennefer’s mouth dry and eyes widen. “You could whip off the nipple clamps.”

It was hard work not to let dazzlement overcome her again, although the almost undetectable smirk on Tissaia’s lips told Yennefer she wasn’t doing a good job anyway. “So that’s the kind of headspace you’re in.”

Her eyes wandered to Tissaia’s breasts, which she normally preferred not to ogle so blatantly. 

The clamps were on sideways, which would make it awkward to hit them off. She considered her options as she walked closer, pressing her front into Tissaia’s back to whisper into her ear. “What do you think, should I tighten them before I do?”

The way Tissaia’s eyes closed at the proposal made Yennefer’s abdomen clench. “Yes.” 

“Are you sure? It might hurt a lot.” She could practically feel the suspense oozing from Tissaia’s body. It wasn’t easy to turn her on, not with what they were comfortable doing, but during the first few sessions, Yennefer had found out that the threat of pain was a viable aphrodisiac, maybe even more than the pain itself.

Yennefer reached around her, finding the little wheel to adjust the pressure, sensing Tissaia’s nerves as she slowly tightened them. She heard her breath come in short, shallow puffs, the pain, annoying as it may usually be, now only making Tissaia bite her lips as she tried to suppress a whimper of the sexual sort.

Their eyes connected in the mirror and Yennefer felt as though every ounce of air was pressed out of her lungs. Stray strands of hair that had slipped from their tight updo framed Tissaia’s face, making her look wild and free. Her skin was flushed, her stare intense. Yennefer watched herself reaching out for her cheek, feeling its warmth as she glided her hand down the side of Tissaia’s neck. 

“You’re darling like that, have I ever told you?” She whispered, barely loudly enough for Tissaia to hear, and delighted in feeling her shiver. “I don’t think I enjoy watching anyone get turned on as much as I love watching you.”

Tissaia chuckled softly at the words and gave her such a soft look in the mirror that Yennefer couldn’t help but smile back. They had found their rhythm so easily and to this day, Yennefer hadn’t found a client that she meshed with so well. 

“We’ve neglected the masochist in you, haven’t we?” With nimble movements, Yennefer unpinned Tissaia’s hairdo, softly scratching her scalp as she did. The last session had not only been three weeks ago, it had also been a lot softer than usual because of a rheumatic flare-up that had Tissaia in so much pain she was not in the mood for more. “Do you want to suffer for me?” 

The question was a test of sorts because on most days, wording it like this would earn a playful scoff from Tissaia who was, after all, more of a masochist than a submissive, but sometimes, and Yennefer had yet to decipher when, they pushed her into a sort of reverent worship that made her beautifully vulnerable in Yennefer’s care. 

“I want to suffer,” she stated firmly, which was neither a rebuttal nor an admission to submissive feelings, so Yennefer decided to let slide for now, opting to play with the clamps instead.

She pulled on them as a test, Tissaia’s face contorting in pain. 

“Are you sure you want me to hit them off?” 

The panicked laughter this question evoked made Yennefer feel almost sympathetic. “Anything to save my carpet.” 

With a contemplative hum, Yennefer began pulling with determination. Tissaia had her eyes closed, as she usually did to hide pained expressions. When the clamp finally slipped off, she exhaled deeply, tensing in anticipation of the blood rushing back into numbed skin. 

Letting go off the clamp, Yennefer smiled at the sharp hiss as the force inevitably pulled on the other side. 

After a moment to collect herself, Tissaia looked up into the mirror again and bit her lips. “Can you not hit it off?” she asked and her voice was meek enough to make Yennefer snort. 

“Having second thoughts about it?” she teased.

“It’s slipping off and,” she hissed. “Fuck.” 

“Do you want me to take it off the normal way?”

“Please!” The urgency in her voice was adorable and looking down, Yennefer immediately knew why. The force of the other clamp falling made it slip so far it was barely holding onto the nipple instead of the flesh behind it. 

“Hm.” She picked up the chain to alleviate the effects of gravity. “If I just let this fall again, it might snap off.”

“No!” The terror on Tissaia’s face was almost comical. 

“Would you safeword out of it?”

“... No.” 

Yennefer laughed out loud, reached around the other side of Tissaia’s ribs and opened the clamp. 

A choked sob that displayed both relief and pain escaped Tissaia’s throat and her head lolled forward, hair hiding the expression on her face from Yennefer’s eyes. Tissaia took a few deep, calming breaths hidden away from curious eyes before daring to look up again, her eyes wide open, a telltale shine to them. “Thank you.”

Yennefer’s lips quirked up at the soft tone. She picked the two mugs from Tissaia’s hands to finally place them on the table. “You’re welcome.”

When she turned around again, she saw Tissaia opening and closing her hands, moving the joints that had started to stiffen in their position. “Are you alright?” 

The clear, bright laugh that followed made Yennefer doubt Tissaia was even noticing what her hands were doing and thought the question to be a joke. Yennefer wiped her worries from the forefront of her mind and let herself be infected by her obvious elation.

“So, what are you going to do to redeem yourself?”

“Hm?” 

“You did not fulfill your allotted punishment.”

“Oh.” 

Yennefer came closer, placing her hands on either side of Tissaia’s hips, enjoying the way Tissaia leaned back into her and sighed when her thumbs moved circles over soft, warm skin. “So? What do you propose?” 

“Isn’t it your job to think?” The playful accusation was softened by the look of pure adoration she gave Yennefer in the mirror.

“Are you drawing blanks?” Yennefer teased lovingly and smiled when Tissaia nodded. 

“You could do anything to me right now, are you aware of that?” She giggled, then shook herself upon realising she had. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re adorable,” Yennefer corrected, earning herself a scoff from Tissaia who didn’t look like she wanted to scoff at all. 

“Anything I want?” 

“I’m afraid so.”

“So I could whip your cunt with the knotted flogger and you’d say thank you?”

She had expected another scoff, an elbow rammed into her ribs, anything along the lines. What she hadn’t expected was Tissaia’s entire body trembling at the idea. Raising her eyebrows, she wordlessly demanded an explanation.

A nervous laugh escaped Tissaia’s throat. “We’ve already asserted I’m in  _ that _ headspace.”

“Hm.” Yennefer shouldn’t have brought it up. The idea, with sex still being a touchy subject, made her feel on edge. Even after Tissaia had dumped the panty-rule, she had avoided the area like the plague, scared to muddle with the fragile trust. Masturbation was a non-issue because it kept Yennefer out of it. It was her own sexual desire that she would rather keep hidden in fear of Tissaia taking offense. 

“It sounds scary.” The whispered words made Yennefer focus on the present again. 

“You’ve never done it?”

She shook her head no. “Can we try it? Please?”

For a moment, Yennefer hesitated, but she was just human and the idea of being the first one to do this to Tissaia, coupled with the look of adoration and desire made her weak. 

“Turn,” she said more briskly than usual and walked to pick up the flogger. Maybe it was a subconscious effort to try and distance herself from what was about to happen. “Spread your legs.”

Tissaia sucked air into her lungs as if breathing was foreign to her, expressions of nervousness and lust battling for dominance on her face.

The angle was awkward and Yennefer crouched to better see the target, unwilling to ruin the experience by misjudging. She swung the flogger a few times, testing the way her wrist had to turn in order to hit precisely. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” The look on Tissaia’s face was dreamy to say the least and a pang of fear settled deep in Yennefer’s stomach. Tissaia was clearly expecting a lot of this now, so what if she didn’t like it, what if she would safeword out the second the strands landed? 

“I’ll start lightly, alright?” she voiced it only to quell her own anxiety. Taking a deep breath to calm herself enough to focus, she bent her wrist and let the flogger snap forward. 

Tissaia jumped when the strands met their target, not out of pain, more out of surprise, and laughed at her own overreaction, the sound so pure and ringing that Yennefer felt it grounding her, making her feel more at ease with the strange situation.

“Harder?” she asked and looked up to see Tissaia nodding vigorously. 

“Please, quell my curiosity.”

Right. That was what it was. Tissaia’s curiosity, not some perversion Yennefer was transferring onto a client, but a genuine wish she was fulfilling. Why was she so uncomfortable with something that Tissaia didn’t seem to think twice about?

She hit a bit harder, enough to make Tissaia jerk backwards before correcting her posture. “Again.” 

The next strike made Tissaia yelp. Yennefer looked up to her again to check in and noticed the laboured breathing, the pink flush all the way down her clavicles and between the valley of her breasts. 

“I think I can come from this.” 

The statement hung in the air for a moment. Yennefer’s arms felt heavy and the strands of the flogger brushed over the floor as the words settled in. “You mean… really?”

Tissaia nodded, the look in her eyes just the tiniest bit lost. 

Yennefer was quick to stand up and close the distance between them, taking Tissaia’s face into her hands, brushing away stray hairs. Tissaia’s hands quirked up as if wanting to return the embrace, but then remained awkwardly hanging at her sides. “Do you want to test it out, no strings attached?”

The height difference made Tissaia look up and paired with her wide eyes and insecure expression, Yennefer felt her grip tighten in tandem with the wish to keep her safe and protected. “Yes. Let me lay down though.”

The words, no-nonsense as they were, didn’t suit the dreamy disposition they came with.

Yennefer looked on as Tissaia cleared the table, neatly arranging the flower vase and tablecloth on the windowsill, pushing chairs aside to form a geometrical order but not hinder Yennefer’s movement around the table. Not wanting to interfere with Tissaia’s clearly meticulous plan, Yennefer drank the rest of her now cold coffee instead and waited until she received a sign to go on.

“Would a pillow under my butt be helpful?”

Yennefer couldn’t help but chuckle at the wording. “A pillow under your butt would be very helpful, yes.” 

If Tissaia took offence in the repetition, she didn’t show it, completely focussed on the task ahead.

“Okay.” She clapped her hands together and turned to Yennefer, eyes still shining with elated mania. 

“You want to lay on the table?” 

“Yes, wouldn’t that be the best angle?” 

“I’m just making sure you won’t regret this horny decision at dinner time.” 

“It’s not a horny decision, it’s a sensible decision.” It was strange how much Tissaia looked like a disapproving university professor now, even though she was naked and about to have her pussy whipped. 

“Then chop chop, get up there.” 

With an adorable little hop, Tissaia sat down and let herself roll onto her back, wriggling so that her butt was comfortable on the pillow. While she didn’t seem awkward up until now, she hesitated spreading her legs.

“Come on, show yourself to me, sweet girl.” How she wished the moniker was meant as the joke Tissaia was clearly taking it for. With a huff, she spread her legs.

It felt dirty seeing her like this, a lot dirtier than it should, and Yennefer found it hard not to avert her gaze, knowing that doing so would make both of them even more uncomfortable.  _ Come on, it can’t be that much different from whipping cocks now, can it? _

Supporting her upper body on her elbows, Tissaia looked at her, but the view was so obscene that Yennefer couldn’t meet her eyes, so she awkwardly stared at her pussy instead, which didn’t make it any better. 

She had seen men in much more compromising poses, women too, if she thought about it, but somehow, Tissaia being that woman made her feel uncomfortable. It was silly, she knew it, but that didn’t keep her from blushing as her eyes glued to the faint red whip marks on the outer lips and the light pink folds between them, still untouched from the other angle and she decided, no, this was not at all like whipping cocks. It was far more intimate because dicks just hung there as soon as someone pulled down their pants, but this was a view saved for only the most sexual of situations. 

This was only getting worse the longer she stared, Yennefer realised, and picked up a soft swinging pattern. It wouldn’t need much force to hurt. 

“You’re aware that this will be worse because of the, uhm, angle?” She groaned inwardly for not being able to voice it plainly.

“Because my clit is on full display, waiting for you to hit it, you mean?” The teasing tone made it clear Tissaia enjoyed seeing Yennefer uncomfortable just a bit too much. “I’m aware of that, yes. In fact, the thought arouses me.”

“It does?” Yennefer felt heat pooling in her abdomen and she quickly pulled herself together. “Well, then I shouldn’t keep you waiting.”

The first hits made Tissaia twitch uncontrollably, but she quickly adjusted to the rhythm. They were barely more than caresses, anyway, because a knotted flogger could sting and Yennefer didn’t want to go overboard. 

“Oh, this is actually quite nice,” Tissaia voiced softly, her lips upturned into a wondrous smile. She adjusted her posture, visibly relaxing and surrendering herself to Yennefer’s care. “I think you can go harder.”

Yennefer did, ignoring the way her nervousness got in the way of keeping the pattern rhythmic. A gasp made her look up into Tissaia’s face again, witnessing the blissed-out expression. 

“Oh. That’s…”  _ clearly very sexual _ . Yennefer swallowed as she heard Tissaia moan. 

The nagging feeling of guilt gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside. Tissaia was enjoying herself. She was here to provide a service. Everything was fine. 

Without being prompted, the strikes got increasingly harder. Yennefer only noticed when Tissaia threw her head back, a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure leaving her lips. 

It was a beautiful sound and Yennefer wanted to hear it again and again. 

Whimpers came unguarded now, Tissaia didn’t even try to hold them in, too far gone to care, maybe even too far gone to notice she was producing them. Her hips began moving on their own accord. “God. Fuck. Yes!”

“Stop fidgeting,” Yennefer reprimanded her. It was hard to aim like this. 

Finger’s gripped the sides of the table as Tissaia forced her body to still, her face contorting in pain. Her breath came in uneven huffs, strained with choked sobs and grunts that she couldn’t conceal. “This is so… fuck!”

A distraught wail left her lips and she let herself fall back against the table, her arms not supporting her weight any longer. Yennefer quickly adjusted the force she was whipping her with, knowing she was going too hard.

“No!” Tissaia cried out, her voice sounding strangely unlike her. “No, no, keep hitting me this hard! Please. Keep hitting me. It feels so good. Fuck!”

And Yennefer did. She didn’t know why she did it, she didn’t even know if it was a good idea, but nonetheless, each strike resounded loudly in the big living room.

The groans got louder, Tissaia’s hands slapped the table in a desperate attempt to keep her legs still. It made her look manic, unhinged, and Yennefer realised she didn’t like seeing her like this, would much prefer the usual quiet groans and giggles. 

Tissaia’s folds were flaming red now. Each strike reverberated through her body, her legs trembled, her knuckles whitened as she grabbed the table again. 

“Shit. Fuck!” she exclaimed. Her head jerked up, face contorted in agony, glassy eyes finding Yennefer’s before screwing shut again. A cry fell from her lips that she quickly stopped by biting down her lip. 

Yennefer had to put deliberate effort into continuing the pattern. 

“Yen...” 

Her nickname was a desperate plea, for what, Yennefer wasn’t sure. She stepped to the side a bit to see Tissaia’s face as she was laying flat on the table, the rhythm so internalized she could easily keep it up while moving. 

There were tears staining her face that wouldn’t stop flowing and Yennefer felt the muscles in her arms cramp painfully as though her body itself was fighting against continuing to hit her now. 

“Please, I’m so close,” Tissaia whimpered, as glassy eyes found those of her tormentor. “Harder, please, just a bit.”

So close to orgasmic bliss she wasn’t even realising she was crying, wasn’t realising that her body was in such an immense amount of pain now, but she would once she came, Yennefer comprehended at once. The pain wouldn’t fully register in the heat of the moment. 

“Tissaia…”

But Tissaia interrupted her, as though she knew what Yennefer was trying to say. “Please, just a bit, so close. So close.”

Moving on her own accord, her arm complied, using the kind of force suited for someone’s back. 

The inhumane howl snapped her back to reality. The flogging stopped, her arm stilled, her entire body frozen to the spot. 

Tissaia jerked up, a look of sheer terror on her face. “No!” 

The desperate, half-sobbing exclamation made Yennefer’s stomach drop. 

“I’m…” she stopped herself, knowing an apology was not something that Tissaia would want to hear. 

“I was so close. So close…” Tissaia’s legs started trembling again, harder than before and her head fell back again, as the shaking got hold of her whole body. She closed her legs, the movement alone making her whimper. 

“Yen… Yen.” Tissaia looked around, eyes lost and full of fear. It made Yennefer’s heart clench.

A million apologies lay on the tip of her tongue, guilt was eating her up from the inside, but she couldn’t go there now, couldn’t slip into this before she was home and alone. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl. I’m here.” 

Yennefer’s eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. They barely had half an hour left until Rita would be home, which crushed the desperate hopes of maybe still being able to turn the session around. Half an hour of aftercare wouldn’t suffice as it was, knowing that once Rita came home, Tissaia would erect her walls and pretend she was fine so as to not worry her wife. It was a disaster, and worse yet, it was all her fault. 

“Come, can you get up? Let me get you to the sofa, dear. Here we go.” She supported almost Tissaia’s entire weight as she slipped from the table and walked the few steps to the sofa.

Tissaia was shivering pitifully.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. Here. Let me keep you warm.” She draped a fluffy blanket over Tissaia’s shoulders. “There you go. Let me get you some water.”

Before she could even turn away, Tissaia had grabbed the hem of her t-shirt. The childlike gesture made Yennefer’s heart break. 

“Don’t go. I need you. It hurts so, so much. It’s… I…” Tissaia grimaced upon noticing the nonsense she was spewing. “Sorry. It’s just... “

She didn’t finish the sentence and she didn’t have to. Yennefer all but slumped down next to her. “Let me hold you.”

The frantic nod broke Yennefer’s heart even more. It was terrible to see Tissaia failing so miserably to seem unaffected. She pulled her into an embrace from behind, the only way Tissaia felt comfortable being held.

“Could you unironically tell me I did well?” 

The wording made Yennefer want to chuckle, but the sound came out distorted. “You did so well, my darling. You were so…”  _ beautiful _ , she wanted to say, but the word got stuck in her throat. “Brave and strong.”

The echo of Tissaia’s cries in her mind made her feel so anxious she was getting itchy in her own skin. 

“When is it going to stop hurting?” 

“I… soon,” Yennefer said because she truly didn’t know. “Isn’t it getting better already?”

“It’s getting worse.”

The words made Yennefer’s blood run cold. 

“The stinging is getting better, but the aching is getting worse.”

Had she gone hard enough to bruise? Did she injure Tissaia? Yennefer breathed away the oncoming panic attack. “It’s all going to be fine. Give it an hour, okay?”

If it wasn’t better in an hour, she would call a doctor, but she didn’t let Tissaia know that. 

“Yen, I feel like I’m losing my shit.”

“It’s okay, Tissaia, I promise it’s okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. Why was she suddenly so bad at this? “What are you feeling?”

“I’m so ashamed,” she whispered.

Ashamed. Yennefer’s throat constricted too much to speak. Tissaia turned her head, her eyebrows constringed to a frown. She searched Yennefer’s face and whatever she found filled her eyes with somber understanding. Swallowing, she turned away, breathing deeply, clearly trying to calm herself and Yennefer couldn’t help but feel awful. Was Tissaia trying to build up her walls for her now because she wasn’t good enough at pretending the situation didn’t shake her up, too?

The sound of a key being turned in a lock robbed Yennefer of any chance to react.

Tissaia immediately wriggled herself out of the embrace, her eyes meeting Yennefer’s shortly, for a moment filled with panic before they dimmed as though the door to her inner worlds had shut. A bittersweet smile played on her lips and it physically hurt Yennefer to see her like this, knowing that even this half-smile was a facade.

Why of all days must Rita come home early today? 

“Don’t look so spooked.” Tissaia’s voice was just a bit croaky. Yennefer still didn’t find the words to answer and the quiet knock on the living room door didn’t exactly give her time to ponder. All she could think about was how Tissaia was decidedly not fine and the helplessness of not being able to change that.

This wouldn’t do. Rita would have to wait upstairs until they had properly talked this out. 

“Come in, it’s fine,” Tissaia laughed and it sounded so real Yennefer almost believed it, which was disconcerting, to say the least. She had thought of herself as emotionally intelligent enough that she could sense distress even when hidden. 

The door opened slowly to the rather delectable sight of Rita in dressing pants and a blazer. Rita was beautiful on normal days, but dressed up for a formal meeting, she was a sight to behold. Under different circumstances, Yennefer would have swooned. 

“Am I interrupting something? I didn’t hear screams, so…” her voice trailed off as she looked at the two women, one tightly wrapped into a blanket and the other one awkwardly sitting beside her. They must make quite the image.

“Actually...”

“It’s fine, really. We’re practically done here.”

Yennefer’s head snapped around to look at Tissaia. 

“Really? Not still doing the aftercare thing?”

“Well, yes, but…” Yennefer swallowed, “if Tissaia would like for you to stay here, that’s fine.”

Maybe. Yennefer wasn’t all too sure. She wasn’t equipped to handle this situation.

“Huh.” Rita brushed some blonde curls out of her face that the air humidity outside had caused to frizz. “Do you guys need anything?”

“Water would be great. Oh, and would you make some coffee? I didn’t really get to drink mine.”

“TMI, but okay.” 

As Rita walked to the kitchen aisle, Yennefer turned to Tissaia. 

“What are you doing?” she whispered forcefully.

“Everything’s alright, Yennefer,” she replied quietly and with a smile. “I let myself sink into it and now I’m pulling myself out. It’s easier that way.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

For a moment, Tissaia’s smile wavered, her eyes turning so sad it physically hurt Yennefer’s heart and she placed a hand on Tissaia’s shoulder to offer at least a bit of comfort. This was getting out of hand. Tissaia was hurting herself with her stupid insistence she didn’t need aftercare. Hadn’t they moved past that months ago? 

“The coffee will be ready soon.” Rita sauntered back into the living area, swaying her hips as she carried a tray of biscuits in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. She gave them a brilliant smile and Yennefer wondered not for the first time if she purposefully emphasized her good looks after a scene. Sometimes, it seemed as though she tried to assert her position in this dynamic, maybe originating in the subconscious fear of being replaceable. 

Rita placed the biscuits on the table and opened the screw cap of the wine bottle to take a dramatic swig. “And how’re you guys doing?”

Tissaia shook off the hand on her shoulder and raised her eyebrows in silent reproach. “Better than you, I assume?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It was terrible. Seven white men and I talking about African American representation in modern art. I was supposed to play the knowledgeable expert since I’m young and a woman, another repressed segment of society in their demented minds. Excuse me, do I look black to you?” She laughed and shook her head. “So, I spent three hours of my life trying to argue that I’m not willing to make uneducated guesses. Hell, my topics of research don’t even include modern art!”

Both Tissaia and Yennefer offered such weak laughs it gave Rita pause. Her bright green eyes narrowed as she took in their respective expressions. “Everything alright?”

Tissaia waved it off. “I’m just exhausted, physically and emotionally.” 

Yennefer kept quiet. If she wanted Rita to leave, she would have to find a way to do it without patronizing Tissaia’s wish for her presence. 

“What did you do?” Rita let herself fall into the closest armchair and took another swig of wine. Yennefer was glad she was giving them space.

“Hm,” Tissaia chuckled, an amused but awkward expression on her face. “Pussy whipping?”

“Oh.” Rita tried hard not to let her terror show. “Fun.”

Yennefer couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t feel like laughing at all. Maybe she was getting hysterical. The unwell feeling in her stomach wasn’t ceasing in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, she tried to make herself believe it wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be. Rita was her friend, her best friend, maybe her only actual friend. Her presence shouldn’t feel this awkward.

“Can I, uhm, apart from the coffee, do you need anything?”

It was uncomfortable for Rita and painful for Tissaia. Why didn’t they just send her away for a while? Yennefer didn’t understand. She tried to catch Rita’s eyes for non-verbal communication. That might be a feasible option. Rita understood her well, usually. However, at the moment, she only had eyes for her wife, which was understandable, but unfortunate given the circumstances.

“No.” Tissaia’s forehead creased in contemplation. “Except for the orgasm that Yennefer denied me.”

“Accidentally,” Yennefer added quickly, unsure why she felt the need to clarify that.

“Oh, now?”

“Now?” Tissaia asked before it clicked. “Oh, the orgasm?”

“Yeah? If you want?”

A moment of crushing silence engulfed them. 

When Rita and she had drunkenly talked about the possibility of a threesome last week as a joke, Yennefer really didn’t think the topic would come up in the near future. 

“Would you like that, Tissaia?” Yennefer had almost called her a sweet girl, but then thought better of it. She had a feeling a moniker wouldn’t be appreciated and she didn’t want to make it even worse. Tissaia’s submissive side was no secret to Rita, but Yennefer never witnessed any details being discussed.

It wasn’t because Rita didn’t want to be involved, despite her obvious discomfort whenever the topic was brought up. Yennefer remembered a conversation after a long night of playing cards and drinking. Tissaia had already gone to bed and, as usual, their minds had headed to the gutter. After a while of their usual banter, Rita had meekly admitted she was envious about the way Yennefer made Tissaia all hazy and bemused for the rest of the day, knowing she could not achieve the same result. In her drunken state, Yennefer had suggested a session together. It wouldn’t have been the first couple she helped to find a kinky common ground to enjoy together. Tissaia, according to Rita, had neither agreed or disagreed to the idea.

Yennefer had never brought it up again for selfish reasons. If Rita could give Tissaia what she needed, what would they need her for? Friendship never fell into Yennefer’s lap and the idea that, once their arrangement became obsolete, so would her presence on board game nights, made her so anxious she banished the possibility from her head. 

Still, it was very possible this conversation was the cause of Rita’s sudden courage and Yennefer couldn’t help but feel responsible. She was the Domme in the equation after all and deliberately postponing communication for her own comfort was not fair on her part.

“I think it would help.” 

The words hung in the air for a moment and Rita looked at Yennefer as if she was waiting for her to object, but it wasn’t Yennefer’s place to tell Tissaia what she needed.

Rita slid to the floor and Yennefer couldn’t shake the feeling that she should step in. It might just be her own misplaced jealousy clouding her judgement. After all, Tissaia didn’t hesitate to open the blanket enough to welcome her wife between her legs and she was the one who didn’t have an orgasm because of Yennefer misjudging the situation. Maybe the endorphins would help her come into her own. It would be okay. The awkwardness would pass. 

Still, it was difficult to keep looking on. Watching Rita was all but impossible, the voyeuristic aspect too much to bear at the moment, so Yennefer settled on looking into Tissaia’s face, watching her wince the moment Rita’s tongue connected with her clit. 

“Easy there,” Tissaia laughed, sounding very comfortable. Which made sense, of course, because Rita and she were married and they probably had more sex in their relationship together than Yennefer had her whole life. It was all fine. 

Tissaia’s eyes found hers and she forced a smile, trying not to let on how uncomfortable she felt, but it didn’t work all too well and she knew it. Yennefer wanted to reassure her, but words died in her throat and with Rita there, she wasn’t sure if it was even appropriate.

Before she could think of something, Tissaia closed her eyes, clearly trying to forcefully relax. It was an absolute shitshow and Yennefer felt as though she might be sick. She stared ahead, neither comfortable looking at Rita nor at Tissaia, playing with her fingers restlessly and considering if she should just head home. It might be for the better. 

Tissaia’s breath picked up, and the seat cushion started moving under them as she started to move against Rita. There were little gasps too that filled Yennefer with reluctant arousal. It only served to make her more uncomfortable. Usually, she wasn’t so aware of Tissaia turning her on. However, without anything else to focus on, she was hyper-aware. 

The gasps got louder with each second passing and she felt Tissaia’s eyes on her. She didn’t want to look, but it was hard to ignore the impulse when it felt like the eyes were burning into her skull.

Tissaia looked anxious. Very, very anxious, and without thinking further on it, Yennefer’s hand reached out to cover hers in an attempt to soothe whatever was bothering her. The fingers turned to grab her, holding on for dear life, as though Yennefer was a lifeline and Tissaia scared of drowning. 

She wanted to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but words still weren’t coming, no matter how hard she tried. The entire situation felt detached from reality. 

Tissaia was getting close anyway, her eyes shutting again. She let herself fall back against the cushions, angled her hips to meet Rita’s touch, her hand going limp in Yennefer’s grip. For a moment, Yennefer had the urge to grab it tighter and never let go.

When Tissaia came, she let go of her hand entirely in favour of digging her hands into the cushions. It only made the distance seem greater yet.

“Are you better, darling?” Rita was still kneeling on the floor. 

“Much.” Tissaia sounded more relaxed indeed. 

Yennefer was jealous.

Gods, this was stupid. Yennefer had never been jealous of a lover in her life and she had absolutely no right to be jealous in this particular arrangement that she benefited from financially. She didn’t even like Tissaia like that. 

Only then she noticed Tissaia leaning into her direction in what her dominant persona insisted was a wish for her comfort, but during the few seconds it took her to realise, Rita had slipped between them and snuggled onto Tissaia’s chest.

Which was wrong. Everything about it. The way Tissaia mindlessly started to stroke her hair, the way Rita seemed to want to get praised for doing her… It fit the playful description that Tissaia had given her about her lovelife. Rita being more of a sub if anything, Rita being a bit of a pillow princess, Rita preferring to show comfort by jumping onto Tissaia and tackling her to the bed until Tissaia laughed again…

Tissaia needed something else. She had wanted to be held, even asked for it out of her own volition. Yennefer should have sent Rita away. This had all been a mistake, she was sure of it.

“I think I have to go take a shower.” Tissaia detangled from Rita’s limbs and got up, her eyes finding Yennefer’s, visibly overwhelmed, waiting for her to say anything, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. All she managed was watching Tissaia turn around and leave the room.

“Sorry, was that too spontaneous?” 

Rita looked at her with an innocent, playful twinkle in her eyes, and Yennefer just wanted to snap and shout at her. That would be unfair, though, and terribly so because Rita had done nothing wrong. She had asked if she was welcome, had checked in with Yennefer during many occasions, had only wanted to help. 

No, it was all Yennefer’s fault for not listening to herself, not stepping in during the many occasions she had had the chance to. She had gone against her instincts and this was what she got. Blaming Rita for the outcome was ridiculous and unfair.

So she laughed. A forced sound that rang false in her own ears, but she doubted Rita would notice. “Yeah. You know Tissaia doesn’t like spontaneity. Well. I should head home then. Hug Tissaia from me, alright? Make sure she… eats and drinks.” And gets the comfort she secretly needed, but wouldn’t ask for.

Was it an act of cowardice to flee before coffee? Yes, and Yennefer would beat herself up for it later. However, she felt close to a breaking point. She needed to cry on her own. The thought that Tissaia had fled to the shower for the same reason occurred to her only later. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
